Forcestone: Guardian of Light
by ForceForGood
Summary: The stone Qui-Gon found in the River of Light is as extraordinary as the men and women destined to bear it. See the events following Ep. 1 through the eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi, in this AU in which Qui-Gon survives to train Anakin. Obi-centric novel-length story featuring Anakin, Qui-Gon, Siri, Padme, Shmi, OC. Now posted: My sequel, "Forcestone: The Blind Path."
1. Prologue

**Forcestone: Guardian of Light**

**Summary**: The stone Qui-Gon Jinn found in the River of Light is as remarkable as the men and women destined to bear it. It begins with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

This is a novel-length Obi-centric AU that begins during Episode 1 and spans the gap to Episode 2. This is the first part of my Forcestone series, which will continue all the way through to the original trilogy.

**Genre and rating**: Mainly drama. Rated PG/K+ for moderate violence and mild language. Contains no sexual content or slash.

**Characters**: All the main Star Wars characters will be touched on, but my focus will be on Obi-Wan Kenobi, with supporting roles by Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker, an OC to be introduced, Siri Tachi, Padmè Amidala and Shmi Skywalker.

**Inspirations, disclaimers and thanks**: I drew from many official Star Wars sources for inspiration, including George Lucas' six films and their novelizations, Jude Watson's "Jedi Apprentice" books, Greg Bear's "Rogue Planet," and several comic books. Since this is AU, my story may or may not contain spoilers to these works. I, of course, do not own the rights to any of these works, including the characters and plots therein, and I swear on my lightsaber that I gain no profit from my story. This is a hobby for me and I've enjoyed every moment of it! I hope you do, too.

**Dedication**: This story is dedicated to my husband, who is not only my first beta reader, but also my own personal knight in shining armor.

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

Hanna walked slowly toward the dim outline of her husband standing on the banks of the starlit river behind their home, taking care not to disturb the sleeping infant in her arms as she moved.

She had gone into the house to put the baby in his crib, but when she had him dressed warmly, fed, and wrapped in a blanket, the moment came and she found she could not bear to put him down, not even for a few hours to sleep. Because she knew that the end was drawing near.

In the morning they would give their son away to a stranger, never to see him again.

Ben-Jiro turned slightly as Hanna came to stand with him by the water, and he saw that she was still holding the baby. He said nothing, but cleared his throat gruffly as he took the edges of Hanna's cloak and wrapped it more tightly around her and the baby, and she thought she saw his eyes glittering suspiciously as he tipped his face back up toward the starry sky.

A long silence stretched out between them, but it was a comfortable one. They had always been enough at ease with one another to enjoy silence together, even before they married. It was one of the reasons Hanna had known Ben-Jiro was the one, although their parents had been concerned about how young they were to get married. But that was nearly two years ago, and they were still as happy as ever - more happy, in fact, since they found out their family was going to grow from two to three.

And now they were going to tear their family in two- but Hanna cut herself off from that line of thinking. Their decision was made. It was the right one. No sense in spoiling their last hours together with tears. That was what Hanna told herself, although she had to wipe her eyes on a sleeve as she did so, and then she was angry at her heart for not listening to what her mind had to say. She laughed a little at herself. She had always prided herself on being the logical, steady type. Not prone to emotional outbursts. But that had all changed the day they were told their son was... different. Special. Hanna had thought at first that it was a euphemism, that it meant there was something wrong with little Obi-Wan, and cold tendrils of fear had twined around her heart. Then, when she understood more, she realized that something was wonderfully, gloriously, tragically _right_ with him, and that if she and Ben-Jiro chose to do their duties as good citizens of the Galactic Republic...

They would have to let him go.

"It should be visible in a few minutes," Ben-Jiro said, breaking gently into Hanna's thoughts. He pointed at the dark shape of the mountain to the east.

Hanna nodded, and hugged the warm bundle against her chest a little more tightly as a cool wind blew against them. It was late spring, and the nights were still a little chilly. She had been looking forward to the summer, when it would finally be warm enough to take Obi-Wan out on their early-morning excursions. It was a tradition in Hanna's family for everyone, young and old, to go out in the early morning and paddle their boats in the river before the heat of the day hit and they all went back to the daily routine of working and teaching and caring for children. It had been a tradition in her family for as long as they had lived here on Otaku, and that had been for generations beyond count.

And now she would be coming with empty arms, to watch her sisters and cousins play with their little ones in the shade by the river, while her own child was raised in the grand, austere Jedi Temple on Coruscant, knowing nothing of his homeworld or his family and all their traditions.

Oh, Hanna knew it was a great honor, that Obi-Wan would grow up to give great service to the Republic, and she knew that she and Ben-Jiro could not help him develop his gift like the Jedi Order could. Her mind knew these things, but her heart didn't feel them. Not yet. Maybe someday, but not today.

"There it is," Ben-Jiro whispered.

Hanna looked up toward the mountain. Yes, there it was, just emerging from behind the mountain: Inori, the comet that crossed paths with Otaku every century. As they stood and watched, it appeared to be sailing straight up into the heavens, a great pulsating sphere of light with a tail of glittering dust trailing down to touch the peak of the mountain.

Most Otakuns only saw the comet once in their lifetimes, and it was said that if you made a wish, it would come true before the comet returned.

Ben-Jiro moved closer to Hanna and put his arm around her shoulder, and together they watched the comet burn in the black night. Hanna wondered what her husband would wish for. That they would see their son again, if only for a moment on the HoloNet as he earned some award for a heroic deed? That Obi-Wan would have a long life? That he would be a good Jedi? A great Jedi? Or even just a good person?

For that matter, what should she wish for? What was the one thing she wanted, more than anything else?

Hanna looked down at little Obi-Wan, his eyes shut tightly so that his eyelashes stood out against his fair skin and his tiny warm body utterly relaxed in her arms. She gently brushed the wispy hair on his head with her fingertips and blinked back the tears that threatened to come again. She leaned into Ben-Jiro's embrace and, suddenly resolute, she looked up at the luminous comet and directed her thought at it with all the strength that she had:

_Wherever he goes, and whoever he becomes, let him be loved. Let him love, and be loved. That's all I ask._

The comet streamed across the void, and the debris it left behind sparkled and shone like a trail of tears across the midnight sky.

Hanna bent down and kissed her son's forehead, his nose, his dimpled chin, and felt his soft breath against her cheek.

_Just let him love, and be loved._

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: The story begins near the end of Episode 1. Although my story will turn AU, you can assume everything that happened prior to Chapter 1 occurred like it does in "The Phantom Menace" film.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Obi-Wan Kenobi had a bad feeling.

There was nothing new about that, but he never seemed to get used to the prickling sensation from the Force that told him something unpleasant was coming his way.

He knew he should still be resting in the cabin Captain Panaka had assigned him on the Naboo royal starship. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and a difficult one, but tonight sleep was elusive. Fleetingly he thought of young children he'd seen sleeping in the arms of their parents, blissfully unaware of any noise or chaos or drama surrounding them, and he envied them.

Pressing the button to open the door to his cabin, Obi-Wan slipped into the narrow corridor, moving as silently as possible in case the crewmembers and handmaidens in the cabins adjacent to his were already asleep. All was quiet now, but just a few hours earlier, the recycled air of the starship had been thick with tension after Queen Amidala had presented her plan to reclaim the Theed Palace from the droid armies of the Trade Federation.

The Naboo were loyal to their young Queen and were ready to follow her anywhere she led them, but they were a pacifist people by nature and there was not a hardened soldier among them. They knew they would be hopelessly outnumbered in the fight that was coming, and there was sure to be bloodshed. Obi-Wan shuddered as he pictured the Queen and her slender handmaidens in the thick of a battle with blaster bolts flying everywhere, and he hoped they were tougher than they looked. He and Qui-Gon were ready to protect them as best they could, but they could not be everywhere at once.

Obi-Wan walked quietly into the main hold – and paused in surprise.

Apparently he was not the only one battling insomnia tonight. Huddled in a far corner of the hold was young Anakin Skywalker, shivering noticeably despite being wrapped in Qui-Gon's robe, which looked absurdly long on the 9-year-old boy. Anakin's eyes were fixed on a red-cloaked Padmè Naberrie, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpeted deck close beside him, speaking to him in low tones. Both seemed oblivious to Obi-Wan's presence. He could not quite catch what Padmè was saying, but it sounded like she was telling a story.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, he cleared his throat quietly to announce his presence. Anakin and Padmè both looked over at him and he asked, "Am I interrupting?"

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin said, his blue eyes lighting up with pleasure just as they had the moment he'd met Obi-Wan and discovered he was a Jedi like Qui-Gon Jinn, whom Anakin already adored. "Come sit down with us! Padmè's telling me about King Narmale the Explorer." He patted a spot beside him.

"Yes, you're welcome to join us," Padmè said in her soft voice.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you for your kind offer, but I just came in here to meditate."

"We can leave-" Padmè started to say.

"No, no need," Obi-Wan quickly reassured her. "I came out here because my cabin was too quiet. You can make as much noise as you like." He settled himself into a chair and closed his eyes, and after a few moments, Padmè resumed the story.

Opening his eyes a crack, Obi-Wan studied the intensity of Anakin's gaze on Padmè's face and began to suspect the boy was not entranced by her words as much as he was by her deep brown eyes and appealing smile. He smiled wryly, thinking of how taken Anakin was by the "handmaiden," and how intimidated he was by "the Queen." He had a feeling Anakin would be in for the shock of his life by the end of the mission.

But his smile faded quickly, and his thoughts drifted back to their previous troubled course. "Don't worry so much," his friend Siri Tachi had said to him more than once, but Obi-Wan couldn't help it. There was plenty to worry about, and sometimes it seemed he was the only one who did. It was Qui-Gon's way to leap with both feet into any situation and he often seemed to know, almost without effort, the correct course to take. But Obi-Wan frequently found himself filled with doubts, and as a result he tried to foresee every possible consequence to his actions and sort out which were the best choices. In short, he aimed to take the long view. It was a natural consequence of his close connection to the Unifying Force, yet Qui-Gon was constantly prodding him to pay more attention to the currents of the Living Force. Obi-Wan tried hard, but sometimes he met with limited success. How could he be mindful of the _now_, when his Jedi senses were being assaulted by one of his many vague and foreboding "bad feelings" about something that was to come? It was a constant source of disagreement between himself and Qui-Gon, although in recent years that debate had become more of a long-standing joke between friends than a true argument.

That is, until their return to the Jedi Temple after rescuing Queen Amidala and meeting Anakin, the latest in a long string of "strays" that Qui-Gon tended to pick up at the most inconvenient times. Until Qui-Gon's confrontation with the Council over whether Anakin was the prophesied "Chosen One."

_"I take Anakin as my Padawan Learner. Obi-Wan is headstrong and he has much to learn of the Living Force, but he is capable."_

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, and he could not stop the wave of self-pity that swept over him. _Capable._ Faint praise and an abrupt dismissal, coming from the man he had spent the last 13 years trying to please. Padawans were not supposed to have pride, but Obi-Wan had to admit his had been damaged.

But even worse than Qui-Gon's sudden rejection was his own reaction to his Master's words. He had not behaved like the almost-Knight that he was, skilled in diplomacy and experienced in controlling his emotions, but like the undisciplined 12-year-old boy he'd been the day Qui-Gon had taken him as an apprentice. He had lashed out in anger at the easiest target he could find: Anakin.

_"The boy is dangerous. They all sense it, why can't you?"_

True words, perhaps, but he shouldn't have said them. Not until Qui-Gon had asked for his opinion. That was the way of things in the Order; Padawans were to show the utmost respect to their Masters. And usually Obi-Wan did not defy that expectation.

But everything had been topsy-turvy on this mission, since the beginning when Chancellor Valorum had dispatched Jedi without the knowledge of the Senate, an unusual move. Events had escalated from there, with the surprisingly aggressive attack on Naboo by the Trade Federation, the hyperdrive breakdown and the emergency stop on Tatooine, the appearance of a boy with more sensitivity to the Force than should even be possible, and last but not least, an assault on Qui-Gon by a Zabrak who may or may not be a Sith, who were supposed to have been eradicated a thousand years ago...

It was a lot to worry about.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan slid his hand inside the inner pocket of his tunic and drew out his river stone, the one Qui-Gon had given him as a gift on his 13th birthday during their first official mission. He had acquired the habit of holding it when he was particularly worried about something, turning it over and over in his hand to study the irregular glassy black surface, shot through with streaks of red.

Thirteen-year-old Obi-Wan had been puzzled that his Master would give him an ordinary river stone for the most important birthday in a Padawan's life, but he had accepted the gift with good grace, assuming that Qui-Gon had his reasons.

Soon after, Obi-Wan had been captured by members of a crime syndicate who attempted to perform a memory wipe on him. As the guards activated the equipment, Obi-Wan had summoned the Force with all the strength he had in an effort to protect his mind. To his great surprise, he thought he felt the stone growing warmer against his chest, where it was hidden in the inner pocket of his tunic, helping him channel the Force.

And when he was free of his captors, he was convinced the stone was Force-sensitive and had somehow helped him retain his memories, although when he told his Master this, Qui-Gon merely smiled and said, "I thought it was just a pretty rock."

For years, Obi-Wan believed that the stone held some secret power, although he never was able to get it to do anything remarkable again. Still, he always kept it with him, just in case. It was only when he left his teens behind him that Obi-Wan was finally able to admit that he had only imagined the rock had Force-powers. It was just a pretty rock after all, albeit a rock with plenty of sentimental value.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he had asked Qui-Gon then.

"You believed the stone was special, and so it is," Qui-Gon had said. "Who am I to destroy the faith of a child?"

Now, listening to the hum of the newly installed hyperdrive on the Queen's ship, Obi-Wan sighed and turned the stone over in his hand again. He was no longer a child, and it was time for him to behave like the man he was. Scanning the room, he saw that he was alone; Padmè and Anakin had left as he brooded, no doubt to their respective sleep couches. The fatigue in his body told him it was late, at least by Coruscant time.

Resolute, Obi-Wan stood and went straight to the quarters Qui-Gon had been given, and gently probed through the Force to see if his Master was still awake. He felt an immediate responding pulse through the Force-bond he shared with Qui-Gon, and then the door slid aside to admit him.

Qui-Gon was sitting at a small desk, still fully dressed and studying a handheld datapad. He glanced up. "Obi-Wan. Come in, sit down."

Obi-Wan hovered uncertainly near the doorway. "Am I disturbing you, Master?"

"No." Qui-Gon set down the datapad. "I was just reviewing the Queen's plan for retaking Theed."

"Do you think it will work?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly, although his mind was far from the details of the coming battle.

Qui-Gon lifted a shoulder noncommittally. "The Gungans will not be easily swayed, and we cannot use our power to help her."

An awkward silence settled between them.

"Master," Obi-Wan said with an effort. "I'm... I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. It isn't my place to disagree with you about the boy. And I am grateful you think I'm ready for the trials."

Qui-Gon studied Obi-Wan in silence for a moment. Then he said, "Padawan, sit down." He pushed another chair across the floor toward Obi-Wan, who sat down stiffly on the edge of the chair.

"Obi-Wan, ordinarily you are a much wiser man than I am," Qui-Gon said, "but in the Council chambers you seemed to be under the impression I was recommending you for the Trials simply to make way for my next Padawan, and I feel I must correct you." He took a deep breath. "The truth is, I've known for some time that you were ready, I just... didn't want to admit it. You were ready to go, but I wasn't ready to let go."

Obi-Wan was frozen with surprise.

"I never meant to spring it on you so suddenly," Qui-Gon said, rubbing his forehead. "But I thought I would have more time to do it right. I never dreamed the Council would refuse to train Anakin, and the Living Force was so insistent on it that I felt I had to ensure his training myself, right then and there. You know how single-minded I can be. I'm truly sorry, Padawan. It should have been a proud moment for you, and I spoiled it."

Obi-Wan was already shaking his head, overwhelmed with gratitude. "I don't care about that, Master, at least, not anymore. I was mostly... afraid I had displeased you somehow. Thank you- thank you for telling me this."

Qui-Gon smiled a little sadly. "You've been a good apprentice. I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight. Despite my training, I think."

Obi-Wan returned the smile. "No, Master, because of it." He looked down and absentmindedly began fingering the river stone he still held in his hand. Another silence, this one more comfortable, settled between them.

"I never told you the story of how I found that stone," Qui-Gon said after several minutes.

"Yes, you did," Obi-Wan said. "You told me you found it in the River of Light on your homeworld."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I never told you the whole story. Did it never occur to you that it doesn't look much like a river stone?"

Obi-Wan rubbed a rough patch on the stone with his thumb thoughtfully. "I always figured it wasn't in the river long enough to get completely smooth." The one thing he _had_ always wondered about was why Qui-Gon had been on his homeworld to begin with. Many Jedi never returned to their homeworlds. Obi-Wan himself had never even looked up his birth records, although he'd had moments of curiosity, because he worried the knowledge could become a distraction from his training.

"That stone was in the river less than a minute," Qui-Gon said. "But I should start the story at the beginning." He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on his knees. "About 15 years ago, the Council took me off duty for a time."

Fifteen years ago. That was before he had met Qui-Gon, when Obi-Wan had been just 10 years old and still learning the fundamentals of the Jedi arts from Yoda and the other teachers at the Temple.

"This was just after I... lost Xanatos," Qui-Gon continued, "so you can imagine the state of mind I was in. The Council felt I needed time to recover, to ponder what had happened so I could move on."

Qui-Gon had Obi-Wan's full attention now. It was rare enough for Qui-Gon to talk about his personal feelings, and even more rare for him to mention Xanatos, the Padawan he trained before Obi-Wan. Xanatos had betrayed the Jedi and fallen to the Dark Side just before he was to be Knighted. Not long after Qui-Gon accepted Obi-Wan as his new apprentice, they had encountered Xanatos during the course of a mission, and Qui-Gon had been forced to fight the Dark Jedi. Defeated in the end, Xanatos chose to commit suicide as his final act of spite against his former master.

"After Xanatos left the Order, I felt utterly alone," Qui-Gon continued in a quiet voice. "Yoda - and others - did everything they could to help, but I looked into my future and saw only emptiness. I had no Padawan and no intention of ever taking another one. I had built a close connection with Xanatos, and the loss of that connection left a hole in me that would not heal. I took to walking the streets of Coruscant, just walking and thinking and watching all the beings come and go. I saw them traveling everywhere with their spouses and their children and for the first time, I recognized the strangeness of the Jedi Order's policy of discouraging us from contacting our birth families. For everyone else in the galaxy, their families are the first ones they turn to when something goes wrong in their lives.

"I started to wonder about my own family. I had no memory of them, but I wondered if they still thought of me and - more importantly - if they would be open to meeting me again. I decided to look up my birth records and travel to my homeworld to see what I could find out.

"When I arrived, I went to the medical facility where I was born and asked a medic there to look up my parents' records for me. When I told her my name, her jaw dropped open. 'You're the Jedi baby,' she said."

"She remembered you?" Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon nodded. "She had attended my mother during the birth. Apparently the circumstances were rather unusual. My parents were what you would call... transients."

Transients. A polite term for beings who chose not to settle down on a planet, instead opting to wander from place to place, catching passage with any ship willing to take them to any destination, never staying more than a few months in any one place or working for any reputable businesses. Obi-Wan had run into his fair share of them in his travels throughout the galaxy, and while some seemed harmless enough, others richly deserved the reputation transients had of being shiftless, or worse, thieves. Obi-Wan refrained from asking Qui-Gon which sort his parents had been.

"My parents had landed planetside intending to stay just long enough for my mother to give birth," Qui-Gon said. "But it didn't take long for them to see that I was different, and my parents agreed to let the medics send a transmission to Coruscant to invite the Jedi to come examine me. A Knight came within a matter of days and offered to take me for training.

"The medic I spoke with remembered that my mother was an older woman, old enough that she had thought she was past her childbearing years. They hadn't planned to have me in my first place." Qui-Gon exhaled slowly. "They chose to give me up, and then they moved on. They didn't tell the medic their next destination, saying only that the Force would lead them as always, which she took to mean they didn't know or perhaps even care where they went next."

"A dead end," Obi-Wan murmured.

"I was surprised at how disappointed I was," Qui-Gon said. "I thanked the medic for her help and told her I needed to return the Temple, but she stopped me as I was leaving and told me I should stay until morning. I asked why, and she said there would be a spectacular meteor shower that night as the planet intersected a trail of debris left by the comet that had passed through the system about ten years before. 'It's said to be good luck to see a falling star,' she said. I told her, 'In my experience...'"

"...there's no such thing as luck," Obi-Wan finished with a grin.

"You know me well," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "I'd seen many meteor showers before, of course, but I wanted some time to think, anyway, so I went out to the countryside, away from the city lights, and stood on the banks of the River of Light. I closed my eyes and opened myself up to the currents of the Force."

Qui-Gon's voice grew quieter. "The Living Force was very strong in that place. I felt a serenity there I hadn't felt in a long time. I waded out into the river and let the current of the water move around me in concert with the Force. I lost track of time, and it seemed the life around me and even the land itself were holding their breaths... waiting. For what, I couldn't tell.

"Suddenly, although my eyes were still closed, I could sense the light growing and I thought that dawn was approaching - until I realized the light was pulsating, and getting brighter much too quickly. I broke out of the meditation and opened my eyes just in time to be blinded by a flash of light that struck me on the chest, hard enough to knock me back a step. I looked down and saw a black scorch mark on my tunic."

Obi-Wan sat up straight. "Someone was _shooting_ at you?" he exclaimed.

"It was a shooting star," Qui-Gon corrected mildly. "I was hit by a meteorite."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A meteorite? Are you certain? The odds against getting hit by one are..."

"Astronomical," Qui-Gon confirmed. "I'm sure. I looked down and I could see a glassy black stone just under the surface of the water, standing out against all the gray river rocks. It was still hot to the touch when I pulled it out."

Obi-Wan absorbed this new information for a long moment.

"So what you're saying," he finally said slowly, "is that my stone tried to kill you?"

Qui-Gon chuckled lightly. "I don't think it was trying to hurt me. It just wanted to get my attention."

"It's a stone, Master," Obi-Wan said. "It can't want anything."

"_The Force surrounds us and binds us_," Qui-Gon began quoting one of Yoda's favorite speeches. "_You can feel it all around you. Between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere. Even between the land and the sky._" He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I don't fully understand why, Obi-Wan, but that stone was meant to come to me. I carried it with me for several years. As strange as it sounds, it brought comfort to me. And then I met you, and I began rethinking my vow to never again take a Padawan. When I decided to ask you to be my apprentice, I held the stone in my hand, and all at once I sensed that it wanted to leave me - and go to you. And so I gave it up."

Obi-Wan swallowed against the lump that suddenly tightened his throat. "Then... it is even more precious than I thought."

Qui-Gon smiled, and rested his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder for a moment.

"It's late," he said. "You should get some sleep."

Obi-Wan stood, tucking the stone back into his tunic pocket, and bowed to Qui-Gon. "Good night, Master. And thank you."

"Good night, Obi-Wan."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's note:** I am eager for your feedback! Good, bad, or indifferent: click on the review button. You know you want to!


	3. Chapter 2

**rbijedi: **Thank you, your support means a lot to me! I hope I can live up to your opinion of me!

**bluedragon1836**: Clarity is my top goal in writing, so I'm glad you find it easy to read!

**AndrossKenobi: **You're right, I did move Qui-Gon's and Obi-Wan's apology conversation up a bit, and that's the first AU moment. Things will get more AU in this chapter! As for the Stewjon issue - well, George Lucas named Obi-Wan's homeworld after Jon Stewart as a joke, and just hearing the word "Stewjon" has the effect of knocking me out of the Star Wars universe and back into ours with a vengeance. So I renamed it. George Lucas, forgive me.

**Valairy Scot:** Yep, he certainly was damned with faint praise. I've never been quite sure why that was put into the script. It makes both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon look bad.

**pronker**: Yes, Qui-Gon's reticence has always struck me. I get the feeling he doesn't care too much what other people think of him, as long as he is confident he's doing the right thing.

**Mara Mcgregor, Wolfdragonz, Jedi Kay-Kenobi, Hurricane Jackson, LadySaxophone, Above the Winter Moonlight:** Thank you for your reviews! I truly appreciate it when folks take the time to let me know what you think. I hope you continue to enjoy it!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

It was a face from the darkest nightmares of the children in the Jedi Temple.

A black-hooded face, crowned with horns and marred with jagged red and black tattoos. Yellow eyes, burning with hatred and the unnatural strength of the Dark Side. Blood-red lightsaber blades, extending from both ends of the hilt and moving too quickly to follow with the eyes.

Locked in combat with the mysterious Dark Lord of the Sith, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were being tossed around like flotsam on a sea as they attempted to penetrate the defenses of the horned, tattooed Zabrak who had silently confronted them as they escorted the Queen of Naboo and her Royal Guard to the throne room. The others had pressed on, hoping to capture the viceroy of the Trade Federation who had taken control of the Theed Palace, leaving the Jedi to deal with the Sith.

Now, the three of them battled across the catwalks crisscrossing the plasma generators that powered the entire city of Theed.

Obi-Wan had once thought there was no foe he and his master could not defeat together. But within the first minute of the duel, he and Qui-Gon had both been centimeters from death more than once.

Although he was experienced at releasing fear into the Force during life-and-death situations, Obi-Wan could feel a sickening kind of panic settling into the pit of his stomach as he fought. Qui-Gon was a Jedi Master, ranked among the best swordsmen the Order had produced. Obi-Wan was the most skilled of his age group in the Temple, and brought to the fight all the energy of his youth.

It wasn't enough.

The red and black Sith controlled the fight, knocking them down repeatedly, rebuffing their every thrust and slash, leading them into a corridor so narrow that Obi-Wan was forced to step back and let Qui-Gon take the brunt of the attack. Just then, a warning surged through the Force. With a snap-hiss, multiple red energy screens flared into life behind them, bisecting the corridor like gates.

Obi-Wan leaped, just in time to get trapped with Qui-Gon in the space between two screens, the Sith also trapped just one thin red screen away from them. The Sith tapped his saber against the screen, to no effect. The three of them switched off their lightsabers.

Qui-Gon dropped to one knee, inhaled deeply and relaxed his shoulders, slipping into meditation. Obi-Wan stood quietly, focusing on the Force so he would have warning before the screens dropped again. The Sith paced back and forth like an animal, eying them malevolently.

Obi-Wan looked down at Qui-Gon's serene countenance and felt an irrational hope flare inside him. _We can do this,_ he thought. _The Sith is strong, but together, Qui-Gon and I can defeat him._

Qui-Gon's eyes popped open. Abruptly, he stood.

"I don't belong here," he whispered. Surprised, he turned to look at Obi-Wan. "This isn't my fight."

Obi-Wan's brow creased in was Qui-Gon talking about?

Then Qui-Gon suddenly went rigid, his eyes unfocused as though he were seeing something far-off.

"Anakin's in trouble," he said.

Obi-Wan frowned, failing to see what they could do about that right now. But not Qui-Gon. Turning toward his Padawan, he dropped his large hand gently on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I must obey the will of the Force," he murmured to Obi-Wan. "You must fight on."

"What?" Obi-Wan felt a spike of fear shoot down his spine. "Master..."

Behind them, the row of screens began snapping open. Qui-Gon took a step back.

"Master, I can't..." Obi-Wan said, fighting the panic that rose in his throat.

"You can, Padawan."

The last of the screens behind them opened. Qui-Gon left.

Obi-Wan turned back toward the Sith just in time to see his smirk. The screen between them dropped, and the Sith advanced in a flurry of red sabers.

* * *

><p>Qui-Gon Jinn raced along the catwalks of the Theed power generators toward the hangar bay, a warning in the Force pulsing in his veins. Anakin Skywalker was in danger. Qui-Gon hadn't yet learned the nature of the danger, but he knew there was no time to waste. Anakin was the Chosen One, but he was untrained, and he still needed protection.<p>

Not like Obi-Wan. For the last few months, Qui-Gon had watched his Padawan with growing pride and sadness, knowing the day was very near that Obi-Wan would be ready to stand on his own. Qui-Gon hadn't realized the moment for that would come so suddenly, but the Force was insistent: he was to leave the Sith to Obi-Wan, and go to Anakin's side. He had faith in the Force, and he had faith in Obi-Wan. That was enough. It would have to be.

Qui-Gon emerged breathless into the hangar bay, striding over his robe and Obi-Wan's, where they had discarded them before the fight began. The hangar bay was deserted, and littered with pieces of droidekas. The Queen's team had apparently managed to fight their way into the palace. The hangar was also emptied of starfighters, which meant the Naboo pilots were now attempting to destroy the droid control ship in orbit around the planet.

Qui-Gon felt his heart sink into his stomach. _All _the starfighters were gone ... including the one Anakin had hidden in.

The warning in the Force was rising to a fever pitch. Without knowing why, Qui-Gon sprinted to the back of the hangar bay. He could faintly hear the sounds of starfighters engines approaching. If some of the pilots had survived ... if they were returning ... they must have achieved their goal. Qui-Gon waited. Soon he spotted a trio of yellow starfighters approaching. They slowed as they approached the hangar for a landing.

Except ... only two of them were slowing.

The third starfighter shot ahead, heading for the hangar at a uncontrolled speed. Its retro thrusters must have been damaged ,Qui-Gon realized, a worried feeling in the pit of his stomach. Instinctively, he guessed it was Anakin in that starfighter, and the worried feeling grew stronger. He had seen Anakin win a podrace, but could the boy's untrained reflexes guide the ship to a safe landing?

There was no time to waste. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and drew the Force inside him, drawing it in deep, pulling it into a pulsing sphere in his very core, letting it build and build until it pushed the limits of his control.

Then he pushed it out, slow and steady, focusing it on Anakin's starfighter as it hurtled directly toward him. He could see the starfighter slowing, but not enough. He pushed and pushed, feeling the power of the Force course through him like white-water rapids.

Suddenly, he sensed another power joining his, a will that was uncertain and unrefined, but with the intensity of the sun behind it. Anakin. The boy was trying to slow himself down as well, fearing a crash as much as Qui-Gon did.

Qui-Gon channeled his power into Anakin's and felt the boy's response in the Force, and their energies gradually blended into one, enveloping the starfighter and bringing it under control.

The sound of the engine grew louder and louder in his ears... and then it stopped.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes. The starfighter hovered just inches from his outstretched hands, with Anakin's wide-eyed expression clearly visible through the cockpit window.

Together, they set down the starfighter with a jolt.

Anakin jerkily unstrapped himself, shed his goggles and helmet, and popped open the cockpit. Qui-Gon helped him out and looked the boy over. He seemed to be unhurt, if a bit shaken.

"Wow," Anakin said breathlessly. "That was _wizard_."

Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p>Stunned by his Master's departure, it was all Obi-Wan could do at first to block the Sith's blows that came raining down on him. Obi-Wan retreated rapidly, and the Sith pressed the attack, until they were both clear of the corridor and moving along the catwalk again. The Sith swung his blade at the Jedi's neck, and Obi-Wan barely evaded it, stumbling backwards. Inside, he voiced a cry of grief. Death was only moments away. Here he would fall, with no Master by his side. All the training, all the missions, all the times he and Qui-Gon had protected one another, argued with each other, laughed together, wrested victory from defeat ...<p>

It all ended here. Anakin Skywalker's life had been judged more important than his own.

And Obi-Wan felt his grief slide into anger. Not only toward his Master, for abandoning him, but also toward the Force itself.

_I've dedicated my life to serving the Force. I've obeyed its every command. And in the end, what am I to it? A servant, to be used and discarded at need. _

And Qui-Gon... Qui-Gon had gone along with it without blossomed into rage, swallowing the grief entirely. It was a strange sensation, one he hadn't indulged in for many years. Obi-Wan was surprised to discover that the rage brought him strength. It made him feel invincible.

He found that he liked it.

Tapping into that passion, Obi-Wan raised his saber and flew to meet the Sith. He had speed. He had focus. And now every strike he brought down upon the red blades jarred the Sith backward. He could see fear now on the tattooed face. Obi-Wan felt power flow through him; he tasted it and tasted it.

The Force nudged his mind reprovingly. Obi-Wan shrugged it off, slamming through the Sith's defenses and severing his foe's lightsaber hilt with a satisfying crunch. He kicked the Sith to the ground and somersaulted over him for the killing blow.

But the Sith managed to flip back onto his feet, spinning to meet Obi-Wan once more, his now-single-bladed weapon clashing with Obi-Wan's blue blade.

Obi-Wan had had enough. It was time to end this fight. He aggressively pressed the attack again, keeping the Sith unbalanced and driving him toward the edge of the catwalk. _Take one more step. Just one more step, _he silently urged him.

The Sith took a step back.

Obi-Wan batted the red blade to the side and launched himself bodily at his enemy, his boot striking the Sith's chest. With a grunt, the Sith tumbled over the edge. Landing nimbly at the edge of the catwalk, Obi-Wan looked down to see the Sith lying, momentarily stunned, on a catwalk below, his lit saber still in his grip.

_It's over. I have the high ground_.

Didn't he?

The Force nudged Obi-Wan again, and then it was as though time slowed and then stopped. There was no movement but the Force breathing through Obi-Wan's soul.

_This is not how a Jedi fights,_ Obi-Wan thought to himself. Right at that moment, he wasn't sure he cared.

Then, he knew he did.

There were two paths laid before his feet. He could use his anger against his master as a weapon to defeat the Sith. Or, he could turn away from his dark anger - and die as a Jedi.

_Attachment is forbidden,_ Obi-Wan thought dully. He had never truly understood why. Wasn't his connection with Qui-Gon natural, even desirable? But now it had turned on him. Now it was turning him, turning him into something he did not wish to be.

He could use his rage to defeat the Sith, save his own life and the Queen's life and perhaps the lives of many others. But at what cost? To turn his back on a lifetime of service to the Light? Would the end justify the means?

Or he could do the right thing - and he knew it _was_ the right thing to do. He could release his anger over Qui-Gon's betrayal into the Force. He could become a vessel of the Light, to flow with the Force and accept its will, rather than bending it to his own.

Obi-Wan made his choice.

With a soft intake of breath, he drew the Force inside of him, welcoming its cleansing flow.

With one exhale, he released the rage...

the grief...

his attachment to his Master...

his jealousy of Anakin...

his fear of death.

When it was over, he felt strangely light. But he was himself again. And he was ready to face his destiny, whatever it may be.

Time still hung suspended as Obi-Wan looked down at the Sith. Without the edge his passion had given him, Obi-Wan felt there was little hope he could emerge from this fight victorious.

_I can't win,_ Obi-Wan thought. _But perhaps there is an alternative._

A memory of Qui-Gon's voice drifted to the surface of his thoughts: "_A mutual kill is an acceptable tactic for a Jedi, but only in a truly desperate hour. Only when there is no other choice. Do not throw your life away lightly, Padawan."_

"I think this is a desperate hour, Master," Obi-Wan murmured aloud.

And, with Obi-Wan's death, one obstacle to Anakin Skywalker's training would be removed. The old would give way to the new. Obi-Wan accepted this fact as he accepted his imminent death and in that moment, he suddenly saw as clearly as if the boy were in front of him a vision of Anakin wielding a blue lightsaber, and the _rightness_ of that image took Obi-Wan's breath away.

_The boy must be trained._

So Qui-Gon had been right. Obi-Wan felt a rush of gratitude that he had been permitted to see it before the end. Before his end. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

_I'm ready._

Reality snapped back into focus. He looked down to see the Sith rising to his feet, and without hesitation Obi-Wan dropped lightly down to the same level.

The two locked eyes from across the distance, and both understood that this was the critical moment.

With the clarity only the Light side of the Force could give him, Obi-Wan knew what to do next. He had never before used the saber throw in battle - it was considered by many a move of desperation - but he felt confident he could pull it off. But he would only get one chance. If the Sith managed to deflect the blade mid-throw, Obi-Wan would be dead before he could recover his weapon for another try.

_I must make sure,_ he thought. _If I run straight at him as I throw, he'll be too busy running me through to block my blade with his._

With the current of the Force running cleanly through him, Obi-Wan lifted his blade to guard position - not the two-handed Ataru stance he favored, but the classic Soresu pose, lifting his saber to eye level, tip pointing at the Sith, his left hand stretched out in a gesture of warning.

Obi-Wan discreetly flicked the control that locked his blade on, and charged.

The Sith looked unnerved by Obi-Wan's newfound confidence. He locked eyes with Obi-Wan and braced himself for the assault. Obi-Wan smoothly raised his lightsaber as he rushed forward.

_This weapon is my life,_ Obi-Wan thought.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw it aside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his weapon flash and spin in a tight arc toward his enemy, and at the same moment he saw the Sith make a sudden movement. Then Obi-Wan felt a massive impact strike his chest, and darkness fell.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 3

**Torli:**Thank you. I try not to overuse cliffhangers, but sometimes the situation just screams for one. :-P

**bluedragon1836:**My plan is to post once a week, so I will never leave you hanging too long, I promise!

**LadySaxophone**: I love to see guesses about what might come next. It really helps me see whether I'm leading readers where I want them to be led. :)

**Valairy Scot:**Yes, I firmly believe Obi-Wan deserves some answers after all he's been through.

**Hurricane Jackson:**Thanks, I will try to deliver!

**AndrossKenobi:**You are wise to wait for the follow-up!

**Catlover friendly-but-xplosive:**Wow, that is quite the creative username! I think writing a Dark!Obi would be challenging, but veeeeeery interesting!

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi**: Some would argue Obi-Wan is remarkably lucky, even for a Jedi. You'll see. :)

**Thank you everyone for the reviews, I really appreciate every one of them!**

**Chapter 3**

Drifting.

Sinking down.

Floating up.

Unending movement.

Obi-Wan was carried as if on a gentle breeze. He was weightless, untethered, insubstantial.

He was also hearing a strange noise.

It was rhythmic, repetitive. _Whoosh, hiss. Whoosh, hiss. Whoosh, hiss_. It sounded a lot like his own breathing had sounded as he swam underwater to Otoh Gunga with a rebreather in his mouth.

Obi-Wan held his breath. The sound stopped. Then he heard a muffled beep-beep-beep sound.

_Odd,_ Obi-Wan thought. This wasn't at all what he'd imagined the netherworld of the Force would be like, and suddenly he wondered: _If I'm dead, how am I holding my breath?_

Suddenly he was jerked upwards, something cutting painfully into his flesh under his arms. Obi-Wan felt the shock of cold air against his bare, dripping wet skin, and then a cold and hard surface against his back as he was laid down.

"What's wrong?" a voice asked, the sound distorted through the fluid clogging Obi-Wan's ears.

"He stopped breathing, sir," a metallic voice said.

A heavy weight was lifted off Obi-Wan's face. Blearily he opened his eyes in time to see a medical droid set down a bulky breath mask, and then a metallic hand pried his mouth open.

Obi-Wan coughed, and then he couldn't stop coughing. He became aware of a roiling in his stomach, and suddenly he gagged and started to vomit. Droid hands rolled him to his side, but the hands holding his head were human - warm and calloused and familiar. Qui-Gon.

After the fit passed, they laid him gently down on his back again. Obi-Wan began to understand what was happening to him. Over Qui-Gon's shoulder he could see the bacta tank he had just been pulled out of, the liquid still lapping in small waves against the glass.

Another medical droid bustled over and pushed Qui-Gon away from the table, then pulled a curtain around Obi-Wan. The droids efficiently rinsed the pungent bacta out of his hair and off his skin, patting him dry and dressing him in a white undergarment. They helped raise him to a sitting position, and a droid pulled the curtain open again. Qui-Gon stepped back to his side, concern in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Obi-Wan thought about that. He felt a dull ache in his back, and he felt a bit light-headed, but was otherwise fine. He started to tell Qui-Gon that - when he remembered. With a start, Obi-Wan looked down at his chest, then rubbed his hand over it in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, getting ready to summon the medical droid back.

"I jumped on his blade," Obi-Wan said, stunned. There was not a mark on his body.

"I ... can't imagine why you would have done that," Qui-Gon said. "But you must have missed."

"So... you finished him, then?" Obi-Wan said.

"No, you did that," Qui-Gon said. "We found him in two pieces on the catwalk, with your lightsaber nearby, still ignited. I didn't see you anywhere; I thought..."

Qui-Gon broke off and swallowed.

"We found you on the bottom level. Your back was broken."

"I couldn't possibly have missed," Obi-Wan said, returning to his original line of thought. "I ran straight at him."

"Captain Panaka is recovering the security holograms from the area," Qui-Gon said. "You can come and see for yourself, when you're up to it."

Qui-Gon tried to be patient as the medical droids checked over Obi-Wan before releasing him, but he felt strangely agitated. The Sith was dead, the Viceroy of the Trade Federation was captured and the droid army destroyed, against all odds Anakin had survived his first space battle, the Queen was safe and Obi-Wan was healed... yet something was missing. Something was wrong.

The droids finished helping Obi-Wan dress, and Qui-Gon pushed his thoughts aside and led his Padawan from the medical facility toward the throne room, walking slowly since Obi-Wan was still weak from the ordeal.

"Senator Palpatine - or, rather, Chancellor Palpatine - has just arrived," he told his Padawan. "He wanted to verify with his own eyes that the Trade Federation had in fact ended the siege. The entire Jedi Council came with him. They're hoping to find some clues about who this Sith was and where he came from, and why he was working with the Trade Federation."

Obi-Wan nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor. Qui-Gon was having a difficult time reading him. He wanted to know why Obi-Wan would throw himself on his enemy's weapon. He wanted to know why Obi-Wan was showing no pride in his rather remarkable feat. He wanted to know if Obi-Wan had forgiven him for the way he had left the duel to rescue Anakin.

Qui-Gon gently probed Obi-Wan through their Master-Padawan bond, and was met with silence.

Because there was no bond. It was gone.

There were only two ways to sever such a bond. Qui-Gon could end it ... or Obi-Wan could. Qui-Gon knew he hadn't.

They walked to the throne room in silence.

Within a few minutes, the Jedi Council, newly-elected Chancellor Palpatine, and Queen Amidala with her handmaidens and advisors gathered to watch the security hologram of the duel. Qui-Gon sent Anakin from the room. Mace Windu had warned the Chancellor that the hologram would contain disturbing images, but he wanted to watch.

"You'll be sure to tell me when to close my eyes," Palpatine said to Master Windu with a smile.

Obi-Wan found the recording difficult to watch. When Qui-Gon bowed out the duel and disappeared from the recording, he saw himself freeze for an agonizingly long moment before he was able to collect himself and fight back. And when he saw the anger flashing on his own face, he turned his head.

But he turned back in time to see the final face-off between himself and the Sith. He saw himself, a wavering blue holographic figure, running at full speed toward his enemy - he heard Eeth Koth suck in a breath with a hiss - the lightsaber left his hand - and then Obi-Wan saw himself flying backward as the Sith unleashed a powerful Force push. An instant later, the Sith fell in two pieces as Obi-Wan's airborne lightsaber sliced through him.

The holographic Obi-Wan tumbled over the edge of the catwalk, seeming to disappear through the throne room floor.

It was Mace Windu who broke the long silence that followed.

"You are a credit to your training, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said.

"No, Master," Obi-Wan said quickly. "I am ashamed." _Stars and galaxies, did I really just contradict Mace Windu? In front of the Chancellor, no less!  
><em>  
>In a calmer voice, he managed to add, "I confess I'm not sure why I'm still alive. He shouldn't have pushed me - he should have stabbed me."<p>

"I don't pretend to know anything about swordplay," the Chancellor broke in, "but I would say you are a very lucky young man."

"A myth, luck is," Yoda said. "Only the will of the Force, there is."

Palpatine raised his eyebrows, but politely declined to argue the point.

"It seems to me," Mace Windu said," that you had him on the defensive only moments before. When you faced him for the last time, he foresaw his danger, but he misjudged where it would come from. He was reluctant to engage in close-quarter fighting again, so he pushed you away, hoping to end the duel quickly. And it would have ended - he would have easily dispatched you after that fall. The saber throw was the only move that could have saved you."

Queen Amidala, still dressed as a handmaiden and free of ceremonial makeup, rose to face Obi-Wan.

"You would have given your life for mine," she said simply. "Somehow, 'thank you,' seems a little inadequate."

And rising up on her toes, she softly kissed his cheek. Obi-Wan was startled to see over her shoulder that Anakin stood in the corridor outside the throne room, his face pressed against the glass door so he could watch everything that was happening.

"We are indebted to you for your bravery, Obi-Wan Kenobi," the Chancellor said, shaking his hand. "And young Skywalker, too; we shall watch his career with great interest."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's note: **Oprah Winfrey once said, "_I've talked to 30,000 people on this show and all they wanted was validation."_ We all know Oprah is a wise woman, so with that in mind... maybe you would consider clicking on the "Review" button? ;-)


	5. Chapter 4

**LadySaxophone**: I wouldn't call this an Obidala. There will be friendshipping - and we'll see more pre-AotC Padme later in the story. :)

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** You're welcome. :) Yep, Palpatine is his usual conniving self, the dirty bounder.

**bluedragon1836**: Yes, I've seen my share of fanfics where Obi-Wan DOES die at Darth Maul's hands, so I know what you mean!

**AndrossKenobi**: You make a very good point, and it's something I've been noticing myself. I can see a significant difference between my earlier chapters - which I wrote over a year ago! - and the final chapters, which I am working on now. It seems like the further into my story I got, the more time I spent establishing settings, adding more details, and really getting into my characters' heads. I hope it means I've been improving as a writer, but it does make the story a bit uneven. But with my crazy schedule, I knew if I went back and started rewriting I would NEVER finish this thing! Choices, choices.

**My Flawed Design** and **Kenji Hyuga White tiger**: The review button loves you. Thanks a lot for your input!

**Chapter 4**

It was a crowded journey home to Coruscant, with the entire Jedi Council on the Chancellor's ship, plus Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin, and all of Palpatine's guards and aides.

Obi-Wan spent most of the time in the cockpit with the pilots, stubbornly determined to keep his distance from Qui-Gon. He was horrified by how close he had come to falling to the Dark Side. He never could have dreamed that his attachment to his Master would leave him so vulnerable, and he knew that no matter how painful it would be, he had to make the break between them quick and final. He felt that he ought to return the river stone to Qui-Gon, but the very thought of doing so made him break out in a cold sweat. Maybe he would have the strength to do that... later.

The ship landed at 500 Republica first so the Chancellor and his aides could disembark, and then headed for the Jedi Temple.

The ship landed in the hangar bay of the southeast spire, and through the bulkhead Obi-Wan heard the others gathering their things and exiting, but he stayed where he was. After powering down the engines, the pilots left the cockpit to perform a flight check. Obi-Wan just sat there, reluctant to leave the ship and face all the curious stares. Did the other Jedi know by now that Anakin was Qui-Gon's Padawan? What would they think had happened to Obi-Wan? He could just imagine the possible explanations the other Jedi would come up with. Had he been dismissed as Qui-Gon's Padawan? Had he passed the trials? Had he been knighted, ready or not, just to make way for the Chosen One to be trained?

The door to the cockpit slid open. Obi-Wan turned, expecting to see a pilot, but was instead surprised to see his old friend Siri Tachi standing there, her shoulder-length blonde hair neatly framing her face.

"There you are!" she said. "I was waiting for you out in the hangar. Adi called me and told me you might like some company right now." Adi Gallia was Siri's Master, as well as a member of the Jedi Council.

"That was kind of her," Obi-Wan said, surprised.

Suddenly Siri's eyes locked onto his right shoulder, where his Padawan braid usually hung.

"Oh, Obi-Wan!" she exclaimed in wonderment. "Have you been...?"

"Yes," he said. "I was knighted on Naboo yesterday."

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!" she said. "Although I will never forgive you for getting there first."

She waited for him to smile in response, and then looked uncomfortable when he didn't.

Just then, the pilots came back into the cockpit, and Obi-Wan got up to get out of their way. He and Siri walked through the ship and down the gangplank.

"Hurt your leg?" Siri asked, noticing his limp.

"My back."

"So, it's to the Healers then?"

"Yes, but first I need to stop in my quarters."

Siri seemed to have caught onto his mood. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" she asked. Obi-Wan made the mistake of looking into her eyes just then. They were a beautiful shade of blue and were filled with concern for him.

He quickly looked away, reminding himself that it was a bad idea to have too much eye contact with Siri. There were still moments when he looked at her and wanted ... something he couldn't have. It had been seven years since they had realized they loved each other - and that if they wished to remain Jedi, they would have to reject that love. Their first kiss has also been their last. Siri had forbidden him to ever remind her of what had happened.

Obi-Wan didn't regret the choice they had made, but he did very much regret the cooling of their friendship that had resulted. They didn't exactly avoid each other, but the old intimacy of their relationship was gone. They were comrades only.

"Yes," he answered her. "You can keep everyone else away from me. I really don't want to talk to anyone right now."

"Consider it done. Scaring people is what I'm best at."

True to her word, Siri shot a vicious glare at anyone whose gaze lingered too long on Obi-Wan as they walked, and no one approached them. Soon they reached the residential area of the Temple and Obi-Wan opened the door to the quarters he had shared with Qui-Gon for the last 12 years. There were no locks in this part of the Temple. Jedi respected privacy and trusted each other implicitly. Not that there was anything worth stealing in anyone's rooms, anyway. Luxuries were forbidden for a Jedi.

As usual, the common room was so crowded with all the plants and potted trees Qui-Gon cultivated that it was difficult to see the furniture. Obi-Wan wound his way through the room and went into the bedroom he'd lived in since he was a boy. Siri hung back in the doorway, knowing without being told that girls were not allowed in the bedroom.

It was a tiny room, just big enough for a bed, a dresser and a desk. Obi-Wan found a knapsack and began filling it. It only took a few minutes. There were a few changes of clothes, some datapads he'd been studying, the case and repair kit for his lightsaber, and a few grooming items. That was it. There were also a few ship models Obi-Wan had built when he was a boy, but he left them. Anakin, being a young boy and superb mechanic, would no doubt like them, and probably take them apart and put them back together. Obi-Wan slung the pack over his shoulder, wincing as he pulled the sore muscles in his back.

"Siri, can I ask you a favor? Can I keep my bag in your room for now? I'm not sure how quickly they'll be able to assign me new quarters."

"Sure, but why can't you just leave it here until then?"

"I've got to make room for Qui-Gon's Padawan."

"What, is he choosing a new one today?" Siri teased.

"He already has. Anakin Skywalker. The boy we found on Tatooine."

Siri blinked in surprise. "The boy who came out of the ship with Qui-Gon? How old is he?"

"Nine."

"And...the Council approved that?" Siri said in disbelief.

"No, but you know Qui-Gon. He doesn't take no for an answer."

"Obi-Wan... what exactly happened on Naboo? Everyone has been saying the most unbelievable things..."

"What kinds of things?" Obi-Wan wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"That you defeated the Queen's assassin single-handedly. That he was actually a Sith Lord." Siri hesitated. "Is it true?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said simply. "Is everyone frightened?"

"The initiates are," Siri said. "And a lot of the Padawans. But I heard some of the Knights and Masters talking. They thought it was pretty ironic that the Sith had a thousand years to plan their revenge on the Jedi, only to get wasted by the first Padawan they met. Should we be scared?"

"Siri, Qui-Gon and I together could barely hold him off. I think he could have defeated Qui-Gon one-on-one. He should have defeated me. He was superior in every way. To be honest, I'm not really sure why I'm still alive, but I know it had nothing to do with skill."

"Then why...?"

"I think we've been given a chance, Siri. A chance to prepare for what's coming. There's another Sith out there, one who might be many times more powerful than this one was, and we have no idea what he or she might be planning." Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't know if we _should_ be scared, Siri... but I am."

* * *

><p>Over the next two weeks, Obi-Wan spent each morning with Bant, his best friend since infancy, going for short, easy swims in the lake with her, after which the healer-in-training would gently massage his aching back. Then he would spend several hours each day working on the new lightsaber hilt he was constructing. He found his old lightsaber no longer suited him. Perhaps he had outgrown it when he was knighted - perhaps it had been tainted by the blood of the Sith - perhaps it reminded him too much of Qui-Gon.<p>

He spent a lot of time meditating, still trying to shake the grip of a vague but persistent dread he'd been feeling since his encounter with the Sith. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been poisoned by mere proximity to the Sith. He'd encountered Dark Jedi before, and never felt this type of malaise. He wondered if Qui-Gon felt it too, but had no intention of asking. Qui-Gon had sent him several messages since their return to the Temple, inviting him to join he and Anakin for dinner. Obi-Wan read each request, and then deleted it without responding. He lived in dread of running into Qui-Gon in person. He had no idea how to tactfully decline such invitations without seeming ungrateful. But Qui-Gon was the last person in the galaxy he wanted to see right now.

He spent some of his evenings with Siri. Her company was quite different from Bant's, who was always so kind and solicitous to Obi-Wan that sometimes it made him feel like more of an invalid than he actually was. Siri suffered from no such fault. She was more successful in getting Obi-Wan's mind off his worries, with her bluntness and irreverent wit. But even in his time with Siri, there lay a small sting. Thanks to their history, he always had to be careful to only meet her in the public areas of the Temple. He was careful not to speak too intimately with her. He could never fully relax around her.

One evening, after he and Siri had finished their evening meal and were relaxing in the Nova Lounge, they were approached by two Jedi.

One was a young woman with olive skin, and dark curly hair neatly pulled back in a coronet - Shadday Potkin. Obi-Wan didn't know her well, although she was just a few years older than he. He did know she already had a reputation as a fierce warrior.

The other was none other than Dooku, without a question one of the greatest Masters in the Order. Obi-Wan was surprised to see him in the Temple at all. Over the last decade Dooku had become more and more vocal about his criticisms of the Republic and, by extension, even some of the practices of the Jedi Order itself. He no longer accepted missions from the Council, and had aligned himself with his homeworld, reclaiming his title and birthright as Count of Seranno.

Obi-Wan had had little personal interaction with Dooku; although Qui-Gon had been Dooku's Padawan, by all appearances the two had not maintained a friendship after Qui-Gon had been knighted. _Just like Qui-Gon and I,_ Obi-Wan thought with a pang.

Shadday and Dooku stopped in front of Obi-Wan and Siri, and they both stood and bowed respectfully to Dooku.

"Congratulations on your knighting," Dooku said to Obi-Wan. "I told Qui-Gon some years ago it was time to cut your leash, but he never was one for listening to his elders, was he? I suppose you know that better than anyone."

It was hard to think of the proper response to an opening like that, but Obi-Wan at last managed to say, "Thank you for your concern. I hadn't realized you were back at the Temple."

"Well, when I heard my former Padawan was claiming he found the Sith - and he was claiming his own Padawan defeated one - I had to come and see for myself," Dooku said. "It strained credibility, although Yoda has always spoken very highly of you, and that's saying something. Yoda hasn't been so taken with a protégé since... well, since _me_."

"I was just in the archives," Dooku continued, "watching the security hologram of your battle, along with this young lady-"

"It's Shadday," she cut in.

"-and we had a small disagreement we were hoping you could clear up for us," Dooku finished.

"I'm at your service."

"At the end of the fight, the very end, when that creature knocked you over the edge, how stunned were you from the fall?" Shadday asked.

"I was unconscious," Obi-Wan said.

"There, you see!" Shadday said to Dooku triumphantly. "He would have been dead! If he hadn't used the saber throw, the Sith would have just jumped down and lopped his head right off!"

Dooku laughed condescendingly. "I can't imagine any situation in which throwing away one's weapon is an intelligent option. What are they teaching the younglings these days? Personally, I find all that throwing and flipping and jumping around during combat completely unnecessary. It's an insult to the pure art of swordplay. And it gives me a headache."

"Well, how do you explain why he's still here, then?" Shadday asked, pointing at Obi-Wan.

"He's here because the Sith Lord was stupid," Dooku said bluntly.

"If that's so, then I don't know why everyone's so worried about the Sith reappearing," Shadday said. "If one of our little Padawans can beat them, how much of a threat can they be?"

Dooku laughed again. "That's right. Go on believing that. When it's you who faces the next Sith, perhaps you too can jump on his sword and get lucky."

"Are you two quite finished?" Siri said icily.

Dooku and Shadday wandered away, still arguing. Siri glared at Dooku's retreating back.

"Arrogant old goat!" she hissed, adding a few choice Huttese curses for color.

There were times when Obi-Wan was very glad Siri was on his side. She would make a terrifying enemy.

* * *

><p>Obi-Wan strode across the Temple's hangar bay, a survival pack on one shoulder and thermal gear slung over the other. He could see the transport he'd been assigned on the far side of the deck and he headed toward it, moving around to skirt an dilapidated starfighter that was half-disassembled in the middle of the deck.<p>

Too late, he realized the sandy-haired Padawan sorting through the innards of the ship was Anakin Skywalker. Obi-Wan tried to walk past as unobtrusively as possible, but just then Qui-Gon appeared from behind the ship's wing and spotted him.

"Obi-Wan," he said, noticing the gear he carried. "Don't tell me they're sending you out on a mission already?"

"I'm going to Ilum first, to collect the crystals for my new lightsaber," Obi-Wan said, slowing but not stopping. "And then, yes, I've been asked to oversee a change of regime on a planet in the Mid-Rim."

"Are you well enough? How's your back?"

"The healers cleared me for duty," Obi-Wan said. He was feeling ridiculously awkward talking to the man who had nearly raised him, but he was also glad he'd bumped into Qui-Gon because there was something he needed to say to him. But he didn't want to say it in front of Anakin, so he kept walking.

He should have been relieved when Qui-Gon started walking with him, leaving Anakin to tinker with the ship, but for some reason this unnerved Obi-Wan more than anything and it took him a minute to collect his thoughts.

"Mast- I mean, Qui-Gon, I've been meaning to talk to you - about what happened on Naboo." Obi-Wan drew in a shaky breath. "When you ... left the battle, I'm sure you noticed that I was upset. I want you to know I understand why you did what you did, and I don't blame you. I'm not angry anymore. I thought you should know."

Qui-Gon nodded, but when he didn't say anything right away, Obi-Wan pressed on.

"I also wanted to tell you: I disagreed with you about training Anakin. I know I already apologized to you for speaking out of turn about that, but I wanted to tell you that I know now I was in the wrong. It is the will of the Force that he be trained."

Qui-Gon smiled slightly. "Thank you for telling me. That means quite as much to me as having the Council agree with me on that point."

Obi-Wan felt a great relief at this. He had been determined to end his relationship with Qui-Gon on a good note. At least he would be able to look back at this moment without guilt, if he couldn't remember it with pleasure. As a boy, he had always assumed that he and Qui-Gon would remain good friends after his apprenticeship was over. Well, having foolish illusions shattered was part of growing up. His attachment to Qui-Gon was too dangerous to keep.

"My transport is ready," Obi-Wan said, glancing across the hangar bay.

"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon said. "And be sure to stay in touch - I want to hear all about your first solo missions."

Obi-Wan looked at the deck for a long moment, then looked directly into Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Farewell," he said.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	6. Chapter 5

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** I agree, Obi-Wan deserves the spotlight more! That's really why I wrote this story. ;-) Yeah, Obi-Wan and Siri are just comrades at this point, although they both wish it were otherwise.

**Lady Saxophone:** Isn't that true! "What we have here is a failure to communicate." And I'll try to answer your Anakin question without giving away too much. Even though Anakin is Qui-Gon's Padawan  
>in this story, his relationship to Obi-Wan will still be important, and will become even more important as time goes on.<p>

**thewayfaringstrangers (Darth Mihi):** Well thank you very much! There should be some fluff moments here and there to make you happy. :)

**Kenji Hyuga White Tiger**: I know what you mean. In canon, I don't think Anakin meant to ruin Obi-Wan's life, but... he kinda did from Day 1! :-( In my story Anakin definitely still has his flaws, but I tried not to do any gratuitous Ani-bashing. He is still just a kid, after all.

**Chapter 5**

Obi-Wan couldn't count the number of times in the last year of his apprenticeship he had stood just behind and to the side of Qui-Gon on missions, silently wondering what it would be like to be the one in charge.

Now that he was, he wondered why he had been so eager. For many years, Qui-Gon had not hesitated to send Obi-Wan off alone to handle some aspect of a mission while he was otherwise occupied. Obi-Wan thought he'd done a good job with each assignment and had been confident he could do an entire mission on his own, from start to finish.

It wasn't nearly as simple as he'd thought it would be. The pressure was incredible. Obi-Wan had never realized before how often he'd taken risks, blithely confident that Qui-Gon would be there to rescue him if needed - or how much he had counted on Qui-Gon for advice, or even just silent observation and support. As the months passed, he struggled to adjust to flying solo. He began to realize that one of the biggest challenges of being a Jedi Knight would be coping with the loneliness. As always, he made any number of friends as he traveled from world to world, but after a few weeks or a few months he said goodbye to them, never to see them again. And few understood his unique lifestyle and devotion to the Force.

He was grateful for the messages he got from Siri every few weeks. He didn't unload his problems in detail to her, and she didn't try to give him any profound wisdom, but reading about her adventures during her missions with Adi Gallia had the power to take his mind off things for a while.

Qui-Gon sent him messages too, short messages that kept him informed of the doings of their mutual friends at the Temple. He didn't say much about Anakin, but from what little he did say, he knew Qui-Gon had his hands very full trying to cram nine years' worth of training into Anakin's head in a short amount of time.

Obi-Wan didn't answer any of his former Master's messages. He also accepted all his missions back-to-back, going straight from the conclusion of one mission to the beginning of the next. He could have taken a few weeks' respite at the Temple from time to time, and after six months had passed Yoda began to drop gentle hints that he should do just that. But each time he sent a final mission report to the Council, he always included a request for a new mission. He didn't want rest. He didn't want to go home. He just wanted to work. Yoda would have to respect that.

* * *

><p>Qui-Gon leaned against the balcony outside the waiting room of the Jedi Council Chambers, watching the continuous lines of ships crisscrossing the afternoon skies of Coruscant. It felt strange not to have a Padawan standing at his elbow. He and Obi-Wan had always tried to come to their appointments early so they could watch the traffic in companionable silence for a while before braving the pressure-pot that was the Council Chambers. It was a tradition he was carrying on with Anakin, but Qui-Gon had not even informed his Padawan that he would be speaking with the Council today. Anakin had accompanied Qui-Gon the last time he had made this particular request, and the boy had been so devastated by the Council's denial that it had been months before Qui-Gon could get him to properly focus on his studies again.<p>

The thing he was asking for seemed so simple, but it was like trying to pull teeth from a rancor to get the Council to even consider it. Qui-Gon wanted permission to free Shmi Skywalker and bring her to the Temple to live.

Qui-Gon rubbed at his face tiredly. Although not many suspected it, he dreaded his clashes with the Council as much as they did. But he couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of doing what was best for Anakin. It was almost certainly useless to ask again, but Qui-Gon was nothing if not persistent.

He knew all the reasons for the Council's reluctance, and could even sympathize with them. A Jedi's family could become a distraction, especially to Padawans who needed to keep their full concentration on their training. They could even influence a Jedi to abandon his service to the galaxy in favor of more materialistic pursuits. Qui-Gon knew this on a personal level, since his first Padawan, Xanatos, had reached the end of his training only to be seduced away from the Order by the wealth and power of his father Crion, the governor of Telos.

But Anakin was not Xanatos and, more importantly, Shmi Skywalker was not Crion. She held no wealth or power to tempt Anakin. She was determined to see her son become a Jedi Knight. Qui-Gon was convinced she could remain an influence for good in Anakin's life. But the Council would not hear of it.

The most frustrating part of the situation was that, two thousand years ago, the Jedi Council of that time would not have blinked their eyes at such a request. The Order's ban on familial attachments had only been enacted after the end of the New Sith War, a century or so before Yoda had been born. The Council of that time began to take potential Jedi from their families as infants and sequester them during training, hoping to prevent them from being exposed to forbidden Sith knowledge. An overreaction, Qui-Gon privately thought, but he knew better than to share _that_ opinion with the Council. They already thought of him as a radical, and their disapproval had only deepened when Qui-Gon had informed them he would take Anakin as a Padawan, with or without their approval.

Most Jedi Knights didn't think much about the worlds and families they left behind as infants. Many had no memories of their homeworld at all, and those who did were far too busy with their work to think or care about people and places that no longer held any meaning for them.

But Anakin was not like most Jedi. He remembered his mother. He missed her. If any situation warranted an exception to the rule, Anakin's did.

If only he could convince the Council of that.

A soft chime sounded, and the door to the Council chambers slid open to admit him.

* * *

><p>Qui-Gon vented his displeasure with the Council by pushing the button to the turbolift more forcefully than he needed to.<p>

Yoda and the other Masters had patiently listened to his request to free Anakin's mother and bring her to Coruscant, then patiently reiterated all the reasons they had refused his first request, and patiently informed him that their answer was still the same. No _again_.

Thank the Force he hadn't brought Anakin with him this time. He didn't want Anakin to learn to think of the Council as his enemy. Qui-Gon respected them all a great deal, but they had a tendency to resist change, and if ever there were a time to adapt to a changing galaxy, this was it.

_Now what?_

If Anakin was denied his birth family, Qui-Gon realized, he would have to do his best to provide a substitute family for the boy. Qui-Gon was already adapting his teaching style to include more affection than came to him naturally, but that might not be enough. He needed to remain an authority figure to Anakin, and that limited what he could do as a friend and confidante.

He thought again of Palpatine's offer to admit Anakin into his office at 500 Republica for a visit anytime the boy wanted. Qui-Gon had yet to puzzle out the Chancellor's motive in doing so. Was it just gratitude for Anakin's help in liberating Naboo from the Trade Federation? Did he want to be a mentor to Anakin? Or, Qui-Gon thought more cynically, did he hope forming a friendship with a Jedi would give him influence over the Jedi Order? If that were the case, he should have chosen a different Jedi. Someone like Obi-Wan, who stood a good chance of sitting on the Council in the years to come.

On the other hand, Obi-Wan distrusted politicians as much as Qui-Gon did and wasn't likely to let himself be used in that manner.

Still, thinking of Obi-Wan sparked another idea in Qui-Gon's head. Anakin looked up to Obi-Wan. Perhaps he could join Anakin's "family" as a sort of older brother. Someone Anakin could confide in without judgment. Someone Qui-Gon could trust to be a good influence on the boy.

It was the perfect solution, except Obi-Wan had clearly been keeping his distance from Anakin during those weeks after his knighting, before he'd left the Temple on his first string of solo missions. Was it because he still feared the boy was dangerous? Or was it because of a lingering jealousy? Both explanations seemed equally unlikely, given Obi-Wan's apology before he left the Temple. Perhaps he simply needed time to adjust to his new independence. The Council was apparently keeping him busy with missions - Obi-Wan hadn't even had time to respond to Qui-Gon's correspondence.

A hum announced the approach of the turbolift at last, and the door slid open to reveal Siri Tachi. Qui-Gon nodded a greeting to her. Siri and her Master, Adi Gallia, had teamed up with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan on several missions many years ago, though none recently. Not since the mission to protect Talesan Fry. Not since Yoda had determined, with Adi and Qui-Gon's concurrence, that it was best to keep the two Padawans apart as much as possible, for both their sakes. Qui-Gon still felt it had been the right decision, although he felt a sting of guilt each time he saw Siri. He did his best to shield that particular emotion from her now, as always.

"Master Jinn," Siri said with a polite nod as she stepped out of the turbolift and held the door for him.

"How are you, Siri?" he asked.

"Fine. A bit worried about Obi-Wan, but I suppose you are too."

Qui-Gon paused in confusion. "Worried? Why?"

"It sounds like he's a little lonely," Siri said. "He's never sent me holograms so often before. Garen and Bant say the same thing, too."

The door to the Council Chambers slid open and Mace's voice called out: "Siri Tachi. Come in."

"Time to face the firing squad," Siri whispered with a wink before she disappeared into the Council chambers.

Qui-Gon stepped into the turbolift and touched the button to descend, but the sinking sensation in his stomach had nothing to do with the downward motion of the turbolift. At last, he understood the significance of what Obi-Wan had said as he left the Temple: "Farewell." It wasn't Anakin he was avoiding, after all.

_It's me._

Qui-Gon thought he knew when the rift had formed. It all stemmed from the moment he had left Obi-Wan to fight the Sith alone while he rescued Anakin. That was when Obi-Wan had severed their Master-Padawan bond, and nothing had been the same between them since.

The two of them had had several serious disagreements during Obi-Wan's apprenticeship and always before, his Padawan had forgiven him. He thought Obi-Wan _had_ forgiven him after his eloquent apology in the hangar bay. Could he have been lying? It wasn't as difficult for a Padawan to deceive a Master as many thought. Xanatos had successfully lied to him any number of times. Sometimes it was easier to fool those closest to you.

Qui-Gon felt sick thinking about it. It was bad enough that he'd been betrayed by one apprentice. Not Obi-Wan, too. He refused to believe it. There was only one explanation he could believe. Obi-Wan _had_ forgiven him, but he simply had no desire to maintain ties with his former Master. After such a tumultuous apprenticeship, so often at odds with his Master, it must have been a relief for him to escape at last.

Qui-Gon thanked the Force that Obi-Wan was too pure of heart to let his dislike for his former Master corrupt into hatred. Obi-Wan was a Jedi Knight now, and a good one, and he would not let personal feelings get in the way of his duties. Nor would Qui-Gon. He had lost his connection with Obi-Wan, and it hurt, but he would have to move on. Yoda always cautioned his students that mourning those who were gone was the shadow of greed, and so he would not mourn Obi-Wan.

But he mourned the loss of all that the river stone represented. He had no doubt that Obi-Wan no longer carried it with him.

* * *

><p>The messages from Qui-Gon suddenly stopped coming. Obi-Wan thought he should have been relieved by that, since he felt a jolt of discomfort every time he received one, but the lack of messages bothered him just as much. Try as he might, he could not help wondering why they had stopped coming. Was Qui-Gon just too busy with Anakin's training to think of it? Or had he finally realized that the contact was unwelcome?<p>

At least he still had Siri's messages to look forward to.

* * *

><p>Siri stopped sending him messages.<p>

In her last message, she was full of trepidation about the mission she and Adi had just been assigned: to investigate reports that slaves were being forced to work in the spice mines of Kessel. The mining operation on Kessel was sanctioned by the Republic, which meant the use of slaves would be a serious violation of contract. As months went by with no word from Siri, he began to fear the worst. Finally, he contacted Adi directly and asked if he could speak with Siri.

And when Adi told him that Siri had left the Jedi Order in a fit of rage after the two had a serious disagreement during that mission, it felt like a physical blow. He had never dreamed Siri was capable of such a thing. But as the shock wore off, he remembered that once he had never dreamed _he _was capable of leaving the Order - and yet he had, for a time. When he was a brand-new Padawan, he had become too close to the conflict on Melida/Daan and had deserted Qui-Gon when his Master refused to stay and help a group of teenagers - Obi-Wan's friends - fight a battle. Because Obi-Wan had been so young and inexperienced, the Council had placed him on probation and eventually permitted Qui-Gon to re-apprentice him. But there could be no such forgiveness for Siri, who was nearly old enough to take the Trials and should have known better.

Obi-Wan slowly accepted the fact that he would never see Siri again.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's note: **Stay tuned! The action is really going to pick up next week!


	7. Chapter 6

**Andromakhe**: I know, the stone had so much potential to tie Obi-Wan's story together throughout the whole EU. One disadvantage of having so many different professional SW authors is that one of them can start an interesting plotline or device, like the stone, but then the other authors don't pick up on it in later stories.

**LadySaxophone:** Wow... you are right on track!

**AndrossKenobi**: I always thought that in the canon story, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon would have eventually come around, accepted each other's viewpoints, and became friends again, but with Qui-Gon's death, they never really got the chance. :-(

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** You're right about their committment to duty. There isn't really a magic solution for the Obi-Wan/Siri conundrum. It's a bit of a no-win scenario. They can have each other or they can have the Jedi, but they can't have both.

**Valairy Scot:** "If not happy, then happier" - I couldn't have said it better myself! 

**Chapter 6**

Obi-Wan had just marked a year since his knighting when the Council sent him to Czurtan at the request of the planet's governor. The planet's security forces had been unable to stem a sudden flow of glitterstim spice into the populace. Spice was a legal substance in the Republic that was strictly controlled and distributed for medicinal use only, but in the more lawless parts of the galaxy a black market trade thrived. Smugglers would slip past the ships that guarded the routes near the spice mines of Kessel, and funnel illegal shipments to planet-based distributors. The distributors would divide it among the slythmongers, who took to the streets and seedy nightclubs and cantinas to sell the spice to individuals. Many became addicted to the substance to the point that they turned to crime to feed their habit, and many died from overdose or contaminated batches.

Governor Tarsis believed an alliance of spice traffickers was bribing local government leaders to turn a blind eye to their illegal activities on Czurtan, and she hoped the Jedi could gather information to help her uncover the corruption.

Going undercover, Obi-Wan was able to gain the trust of one of the criminals who was using her influence with corrupt government officials to bring shipments of spice to the planet and distribute it to slythmongers in the populace without interference. She made a handsome profit, which she used to fund her own spice use and luxurious living, and to keep the bribes flowing.

Her name was Janri, and after a short time of "working" for her, Obi-Wan was surprised to discover that despite her illegal activities, she was also one of the least despicable of those in the crime ring. A human woman of middling years, she wielded a great deal of power over her underlings, but she ruled with smarts and charisma rather than brutality. She treated her crew more like family than employees. And indeed, since so many of them had become estranged from their birth families when they delved into the criminal underworld, Janri was all the family they had left. In an almost maternal way, she took good care of them all. Despite his better judgment, Obi-Wan had to admit to himself that he liked her - at least, when she wasn't buzzed on spice.

Janri must have liked him too, because after several months of gaining her trust, she invited him to join the team working to bring an enormous shipment of spice to Czurtan from a nearby system. He spent weeks helping her plan the operation, and then he joined the group that carried it out. They succeeded. It was the most profitable operation Janri had ever undertaken, and she was giddy with her victory as she invited her "family" to her mansion that night to celebrate. Obi-Wan was feeling victorious, too, but for a different reason - he had managed to collect the identities of many of the politicians Janri worked with. He slipped away from the group for a moment to discreetly send the list to Governor Tarsis, and she informed him she would deploy security detachments that night to arrest everyone on his list, as well as Janri and her crew.

He rejoined the others at Janri's mansion, to avoid arousing suspicion until the security detachment arrived. There was an atmosphere of unrestrained jubilation among Janri's crew, and unexpectedly, Obi-Wan found himself enjoying it. He tried not to think about the fact that they would all shortly be en route to a prison world by his doing. For now, he would pretend to be a member of Janri's family and just enjoy their company.

After all, he too had no family of his own.

As the night wore on, more and more of Janri's crew overindulged in spice and ended up collapsing into a stupor onto the nearest surface to sleep it off. Obi-Wan gently nudged a limp sleeping body off the couch and onto the floor so he could have a place to sit. He looked around and noticed he and Janri were the only alert beings in the room.

Janri noticed too, and crossed over to sit close by him. Surprisingly, she seemed to be only mildly buzzed on spice. She looked directly into his eyes and smiled warmly.

"So, what's your story?" she asked him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've been watching you, kid. You're a mystery to me. You work harder than anyone else here, and you're friendly to everyone, but somehow you've avoided making a single real friend since you joined us. And you never talk about your past. I know next to nothing about you."

"Work makes me happy," Obi-Wan said shortly. "Talking about my past makes me unhappy."

"We all have unhappy pasts here. Come on - tell me about your family. The good, the bad, and the ugly."

If he deflected her question again, she might grow suspicious. That was what Obi-Wan thought to himself, but underneath it, he knew that in reality he wanted to tell her his story. Janri was the kind of person who you knew you could tell anything to, and she wouldn't pass judgment. It was exactly that trait that bound her crew to her with ties of loyalty, rather than fear.

Of course, he couldn't tell her the whole story. But it would be a relief to tell a part of it.

"I have no mother," he said slowly. "I was raised by my father. He taught me everything I know about this business."

"So why are you working for me, and not running spice with your father?"

"He has a new protégé. My younger brother."

"You mean he kicked you out of the business, in favor of your little brother?" Janri said with disgust.

"No, not exactly," Obi-Wan was forced to admit. "It was my choice to leave. There was little more I could learn from him. I'm perfectly capable of working on my own."

"I don't doubt you're capable, but don't families usually stick together?"

"Not my family," Obi-Wan said softly.

"What about the rest of your family? Do you have just the one brother?"

"I have many brothers and sisters," Obi-Wan said with a little laugh. "But the sister I was closest to ran away. The others are busy living their own lives. So ... here I am."

"Sounds lonely."

"It is. But that doesn't matter."

"Why shouldn't it matter?"

"Because I'm doing good work. Why should it matter how I feel about it?"

"What are you, a droid?" Janri asked, sitting up straight in amazement. "Of course it matters! Everyone needs connections. Most of us don't have that with our families anymore, so we get it from each other now. You think you can live in isolation all your life? Pretend you don't need anyone or anything, ever? Sooner or later the truth will pop out, and when it does it'll be messy. Believe me, I've seen it. I've experienced it."

"Maybe..." he said.

_Is a connection the same thing as an attachment?_ Obi-Wan wondered. Eventually he would have to return to the Temple. Could he bear to make connections again, knowing that at any time his friends could be taken from him - whether by his own choice, as with Qui-Gon, or by desertion as with Siri, or by violence, as so many Jedi throughout the ages had died?

Was it even possible to live without connections? Obi-Wan realized he was so hungry for them that even now, he was connecting with Janri, which was certainly not wise. But he couldn't make himself regret it.

Siri was lost to him. So was Qui-Gon. But there were others in the Temple...

"If you don't think you can go back to your family-" Janri suddenly grinned at him mischievously, "-you could always get yourself a woman. Start a family of your own."

Obi-Wan laughed.

"I'm serious," Janri said. "I bet Yillina over there would take you. I dare you to go over there and flirt with her. After she's slept off the spice buzz, that is."

Obi-Wan laughed again. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because." Obi-Wan thought fast. "Because I'm already married." _From a certain point of view_. He'd made a lifelong commitment to the Jedi Order, which was the closest thing to marriage he would ever experience. Janri looked surprised at this revelation.

"She obviously doesn't take very good care of you," Janri said. "I take it you're estranged?"

"We have been," Obi-Wan said, thinking of his own stubborn refusal over the past year to go home to the Temple, despite Yoda's repeated gentle promptings. "But I've been thinking about going back to her."

"You should," Janri urged. "You're too young to live like a hermit. Although I would hate to lose you. Is your wife in the business, too?"

Obi-Wan's cover story was becoming more convoluted by the minute, but it was too late to stop now. "Yes."

"Bring her back with you. She can join the crew, too."

"I'll think about it." Obi-Wan hesitated. "Janri, have you ever thought about going above-ground?"

"You mean, become a legitimate spice dealer? And watch taxation eat up half my profits? Not likely," Janri scoffed. "Come on. Let's celebrate. Look what I've got." She reached inside her jacket and came up with a couple of death sticks.

"I was saving the best for last," she said, grinning, as she held one out to him. "And since you held out as long as I did, I'll share."

_Oh, not good,_ Obi-Wan thought. He had been hoping Janri was abstaining from spice tonight because she realized her addiction was a problem, but apparently not.

"You don't want to give me a death stick," he said, subtly infusing his suggestion with the power of the Force.

"Sure I do, kid," Janri said, smiling, pushing the vial into his hand. "You deserve it."

Was Janri too strong-minded for a mind trick? Obi-Wan concentrated a bit harder, this time adding a casual hand gesture. "You don't want to use death sticks. You want to give them up and rethink your life."

Janri stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "So you _do_ have a sense of humor after all!" she exclaimed, slapping him on the back.

Still chuckling, Janri started to lift her vial, but it never made it to her lips. Impulsively, Obi-Wan snatched it out of her hand, jumped to his feet, and wrenched open a window. Janri realized he was about to do something rash, although she wasn't sure what, and darted over to grab his arm, but she was too late. He pulled the stoppers out of both vials and dumped the contents out the window.

"What are you doing? Do you have any idea how much those cost me?" she demanded, her voice rising sharply.

"I had to do it," he said, thinking fast. "I'm ... addicted. Trying to quit. Had to remove temptation."

"Why in the name of the Nine Corellian Hells would you want to quit?" Janri was staring at him as if he'd gone insane.

"Do you realize that a single dose of that stuff takes away a year of your life?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"And?"

"And you deserve better that that. Don't you agree?"

Janri looked at him, wide-eyed and momentarily stunned into silence. Before she could sort out a proper answer, they were abruptly deafened by the blare of an alarm that suddenly sounded throughout the mansion.

"Oh, skrag!" Janri hissed. One of her crew lifted his head groggily and looked around in confusion for the source of the noise, but the rest were too buzzed to even notice.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked. "What's happening?"

"Someone's entered the security perimeter." Janri rushed over to a panel on the wall and tapped a few buttons, then looked at the screen in dismay. "A whole lot of someones. We've been tracked here." She began darting around the room, trying to shake everyone awake. "We've got to evacuate!" she shouted at them.

"Janri - it's no good, they can't even walk," Obi-Wan objected, shouting to be heard over the din of the alarm.

"Then we'll carry them out!" she shouted back.

"We can't possibly carry them all!"

"I'm not leaving anyone behind!"

A small explosion downstairs indicated the front door had just been blasted open. Janri struggled to drag a member of her crew across the room.

"What's the plan?" he asked her, grabbing the man's arm and helping her drag him, but already he was forming a plan of his own.

"I've got escape routes in the basement and on the roof," Janri gasped. "We've just got to get everyone down the hall and into the sabacc room, that's where the turbolift is hidden. There's a blast door that should slow them down for a while. Buy us some time." Together, they dragged the man into the sabacc room.

"We'll need weapons," Janri said. "In that cabinet over there. Passcode is 539-872."

Janri went back to retrieve another member of her crew. Obi-Wan started working on the cabinet as fast as he could. When she came back, he gave her the bad news. "I can't get it open!"

"It's 539-872!" Janri repeated, dumping another crewmember by the turbolift.

"That's what I input."

"What?" Janri darted over and tapped in the code herself. Nothing happened. "Skrag!" She looked as though she were near panic.

They both jumped as they heard the thump of boots approaching in the distance.

"Hurry! We have to get the rest of the crew!" Janri shouted.

"It's too late!" Obi-Wan tried to grab her, but she ran back down the corridor and was nearly struck by a stun bolt as a uniformed security officer entered the room from the other side and opened fire. Janri leapt back into the corridor and Obi-Wan pulled her back into the sabacc room. Janri hit the control to lower the blast door, but tears were streaming down her face.

"They're using stun blasters," Obi-Wan said quietly. "No one will get hurt."

Janri shook her head in despair. "I was supposed to take care of them!"

"Then let's take care of the two we have here." Obi-Wan dragged one of the crewmembers into the turbolift. "We'll have better odds if we split up. I'll wait here while you take him up to the roof, and then I'll take the other down to the basement. Where do I go from there?"

Wiping the tears roughly from her face, Janri told him. "You'll see an underground tunnel in the north wall as soon as you exit the turbolift, and a speeder bike at the entrance. There are a couple of branches and dead ends, so don't take a wrong turn. Go left, left, right and then left. Then you'll emerge into heavy traffic and you should be able to disappear into the crowd. Once you're sure you aren't being followed, go to Mekel's cantina on Werran's Way. He'll help you lie low until I meet up with you there."

The room trembled as another explosive was set off at the entrance to the sabacc room, but the blast door held.

"Left, left, right and left," Obi-Wan repeated. "Mekel's cantina."

"That's it." Janri gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good luck, kid."

"Janri-" Obi-Wan squeezed her hand. "Thank you. For everything. And I'm... I'm sorry about your crew..."

Janri shrugged, although she was obviously trying not to lose control again. "It wasn't your fault, kid. See you at Mekel's." She hit the control on the turbolift, and the door slid shut between them.

For a long moment, Obi-Wan stared at the floor wishing he didn't have to do this, but delay was pointless. Janri was a criminal, and he was a Jedi, and he would do his duty. He stepped over the crew member lying in a daze on the floor of the sabacc room, and palmed the control to open the blast door. Startled, the guard on the other side pointed a stun blaster at him, but Obi-Wan held up his hands to show he wasn't armed, and a moment later the guard recognized him as the infiltrator and lowered his weapon.

"Where's the leader?" he asked curtly.

"On her way to the roof," Obi-Wan said. "She isn't armed. Tell your men not to use unnecessary force."

The guard gave rapid instructions into his comlink, and then busied himself with snapping binders on the unconscious man on the floor and dragging him out the door and down the corridor, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the sabacc room.

It was all over very quickly. Within a few minutes, the guard returned to report the entire crew, including Janri, was detained and en route to a secure facility. Obi-Wan was taken to give his final report to Governor Tarsis.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done," she said earnestly. "We never would have gotten so many names so quickly without you. I know you aren't permitted to take payment for your service, but if there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Yes, there is something you can do," Obi-Wan said. "Use whatever influence you might have with the courts to see that Janri's sentence isn't harsher than it needs to be."

"You want leniency for the leader?" Governor Tarsis asked in surprise.

"Not leniency," Obi-Wan said. "Fairness. For her, I think rehabilitation will be more effective than punishment."

"I'll do what I can," Governor Tarsis said.

"One other thing," Obi-Wan said. "Please don't tell her anything about my involvement. Just... let her believe I escaped."

He didn't offer any further explanation, but Governor Tarsis seemed to understand. She gave him a small smile, and passed the order along to her security forces.

Obi-Wan contacted Yoda while his transport was being prepared for departure. But when he was done making his report, he did not ask for a new assignment as usual. He wanted to go home. He was ready.

"Another assignment I have for you," Yoda said, his blue holographic form flickering and pulsing.

"Oh..." Obi-Wan said, his heart sinking in his chest. "I see. Of course. What is it?"

"Contacted the Temple, parents have. Believe their child to be Force-sensitive, they do. Go to the coordinates I am transmitting, and meet with them. If correct they are ..."

Obi-Wan could swear he saw triumph flash in Yoda's eyes.

"...return to the Temple with the child, you will have to."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's note: **The next chappie's a short one, so I'm going to make it a bonus mid-week update. Enjoy!


	8. Chapter 7

**AndrossKenobi: **I know, I could have easily made the Janri adventure a whole story unto itself... but this story has already ended up waaaaaaay longer than I planned. I'm almost done writing it, and it's pushing 80,000 words. And that's just Part 1!

**CC-645: **Thank you very much, and welcome to my readership! The Jedi Order certainly does have very strict rules, and I think most people would have a hard time following them perfectly. It's very human to want attachments.

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** Luckily this assignment will be a fun one for him, or at least more fun than fighting bad guys. :-)

**LadySaxophone:** A hug for Obi-Wan? Hmmmm, I'll see what I can do. :-D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"I don't mean to criticize your way of life," Merzi said, "but I don't understand why the Jedi don't maintain ties with their families. If we give our daughter to you ... you're telling me that we may never see her again. And you're saying she could never marry or start her own family."

"The Code was developed thousands of years ago. There are many reasons why attachments are forbidden," Obi-Wan said patiently. "One is for your own protection. Jedi Knights encounter many unscrupulous beings in their travels. If these beings knew they could control a Jedi by threatening their family - whether her parents, or her spouse, or her children - their innocent lives would be in grave danger.

"Also, the early years are the most crucial time in an initiate's life. They must be immersed in their studies, so that use of the Force becomes second nature to them. Their lives, and the lives of many others, depend on their training, and any disruption or distraction could prove disastrous."

On Yoda's instructions, Obi-Wan had determined that the infant daughter of Merzi and her husband, Saim, was in fact Force-sensitive. Now all that remained was to answer the couple's questions about the Jedi Order, so that they fully understood the consequences of giving up their daughter, if they chose to do so.

"It just doesn't seem right," said Saim. "They say Jedi are a great force for good in the galaxy - and as your reward, you are sentenced to wander alone from world to world all your life?"

"Jedi aren't always alone," Obi-Wan said. "They spend their childhood surrounded by friends and teachers. I had a very happy childhood. And they spend their youth apprenticed to Masters who provide for their social needs as well as their academic needs. Masters aren't just teachers, they are also friends."

"But after that... once Lena is knighted, she'll be alone?" Merzi asked.

"Only if she chooses to be," Obi-Wan said. "Many Knights take Padawan Learners of their own. The student becomes the teacher, and the cycle begins again."

"Then what you're really saying is ... the Jedi become her family?" Merzi said thoughtfully. "Her Master will be like her mother or father, and one day her student will be like her daughter or son?"

_Not exactly,_Obi-Wan thought. Although Masters and Padawans often became close due to long familiarity, they did not behave the way Obi-Wan had observed families behaving. Masters did not shield their Padawans from the harshness of life, the way he had seen parents shelter their children. And they never said "I love you," as a parent would.

But good Masters treated their Padawans with warmth and always acted in their best interests, and Obi-Wan knew Merzi's analogy was close enough to the truth to help her understand.

"Yes," he said. "The Jedi are a family. If you choose to give her to us, we'll take good care of her."

"You will see to it _personally_?" she asked, her eyes intent on his.

"Yes, if you would like. You have my word. I will keep an eye on her."

Merzi seemed satisfied with his answer, although he could sense she was curious as to why he himself had no Padawan.

_I always intended to take a Padawan someday_, he thought. He'd had a vague plan to spend five or ten years solo, and then look for a Padawan once he was sure he knew enough to be a good teacher.

But some Jedi took Padawans almost immediately after their knighting. There was no reason why they couldn't, as long as the pairing was approved by the Council.

Perhaps he would consider ... accelerating his plan.

* * *

><p>The journey home was the most entertaining and exasperating one Obi-Wan had ever had.<p>

Lena was just over a year old, and she toddled around the ship with unflagging energy and endless resourcefulness in escaping his notice long enough to rummage around in storage compartments, or get into the food packages stored in the galley, or - worst of all - run into the cockpit and stand up on her tippy toes, where she was just able to reach the controls with her chubby little fingers.

He had helped bring a new recruit to the Temple once before, but that was when Adi Gallia, Siri Tachi, and Qui-Gon Jinn were all there to take turns caring for the baby. And that baby had been too young to walk.

Somehow Obi-Wan had escaped having to change a diaper back then. No such luck this time. He had no idea such a small child could be so strong. Every time he tried to lay her on her back, she would arch her back and flail her legs to the side, and start crawling away before he could stop her. He tried to gently pin her down with one hand on her chest, but he was afraid of hurting her, and she soon learned to wiggle and squirm like a Terrellian eel until she got away from him again.

Feeding Lena was unbelievably messy. She ate with her fingers, but she wasn't very interested in finger foods like bread or crackers. No, she demanded to eat the same reconstituted freeze-dried food he was eating: pudding, and mashed tubers, and minced raknor covered in berry sauce. Republic galleys were not outfitted with baby chairs that had straps. He had to hold her on his lap. His white tunic was not white anymore.

And no matter what he tried, he could not lay her down to sleep and then walk away. She would screech at him until he finally picked her up and held her, at which point she would immediately lay her head down on his chest and relax. He got a crick in his neck from holding her limp, sleeping body for hours at a time. But rather than being annoyed, he had to admit he liked holding her while she slept. She looked so peaceful and content, and he thought Merzi and Saim would be pleased that he was taking care of her as a parent would.

Thankfully, she was asleep in his arms when the ship exited hyperspace near Coruscant. Obi-Wan had to fly one-handed as he entered Coruscant's traffic lanes, but at least Lena wasn't touching the flight controls at inopportune times.

As was tradition, he did not land in any of the hangar bays set in the Temple's four spires. He set the ship down on a landing pad near the Processional Way in the Temple District, and carried her up the long flight of steps that led to the Temple's formal main entrance, which was guarded by massive statues depicting the four ancient founders of the Jedi Order.

Lena stirred and then opened her eyes as he climbed. Suddenly she squirmed until she was upright in his arms. She looked with great interest at the diminutive figure of Yoda, who was now visible at the top of the steps, standing directly in the center of the entrance, leaning on his gimer stick as he awaited them.

"Look, Lena," Obi-Wan whispered. "We're home."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	9. Chapter 8

**AndrossKenobi:** I just read the Olana entry on Wookieepedia - I had no idea her backstory had grown beyond what Jude Watson wrote! Very interesting. It had never occurred to me that she would have been the right age to be Obi-Wan's Padawan. Sounds like a fluffy little plot bunny for another day...

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** We MAY see Lena again... we'll see. :-D

**LadySaxophone and thewayfaringstrangers:** Yeah, he can be stubborn, but he can also listen to reason. Thank goodness!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Once little Lena was comfortably settled into the creche with the other Jedi initiates her age, Obi-Wan received permission from the Council to stay at the Temple for an extended time, with the condition that he spend some of that time assisting with the instruction of the initiates. That suited Obi-Wan well, since he had decided to begin acquainting himself with the initiates who would be ready to be apprenticed in a few years.

Astaal Vilbum, the head of the Council of First Knowledge which oversaw the education of the initiates, assigned Obi-Wan to help guide a small group of 10-year-olds through flight simulations. Obi-Wan didn't mind flight simulations - flying wasn't his favorite pastime, but it wasn't so bad when there weren't real bolts and missiles flying past his head - plus, the class had the added advantage of Anakin Skywalker's absence. The Chosen One's piloting skills were already far beyond the other 10-year-olds in the Temple.

The class consisted of Ferus Olin, Darra Thel-Tanis, Tru Veld and Nalia Lascol. Tru was the best pilot of the group, having an innate talent for all things mechanical. Ferus was nearly as good as Tru, and applied himself very seriously to his work. In some ways, he reminded Obi-Wan of himself, which Obi-Wan hadn't decided yet if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Nalia was so quiet that Obi-Wan hardly felt he knew her at all, even after several weeks. Darra was sweet-natured and eager to learn. Obi-Wan found himself enjoying being a teacher, but he often felt doubts about his readiness to take a Padawan. The initiates were all so bright and full of promise. To be solely responsible for one of them out in the field, far from the support of the Council - to have one stand beside him in combat, to have to be a perfect example of a Jedi Knight - was an overwhelming prospect. He was relieved he'd thought to give himself a few years' head start. These initiates would need another year or two before they would be ready to be Padawans, and Obi-Wan thought it would likely take him as long to be ready to be a Master.

When he wasn't teaching, Obi-Wan often sparred with Cin Drallig, the Temple's battlemaster. Obi-Wan had decided to alter his fighting style. No longer would he rely so heavily on the acrobatic Ataru form, which was limited by the need for a lot of space, and burned up energy too quickly. He felt the style had nearly brought disaster upon both himself and Qui-Gon during their duel with the Sith on Naboo. Cin was helping him refine the Soresu form, which was highly defensive and could make its practitioners nearly unbeatable. The style often extended fight time greatly, though, so Obi-Wan worked hard to build up his endurance.

"You're wasting all your talent on me, you know," Cin said to him one day after an intense sparring session.

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I mean, I'm desperate for help," Cin admitted. "I've been preparing three of the oldest initiates for the next tournament, which is a few months away. Then the Council decided there's another who should be ready to be apprenticed by then, so now I'm trying to give intensive training to four at once. The math doesn't work. While I work with one, two spar with each other, and the fourth is left out."

Obi-Wan thought briefly of the tournament in which he had fought, as a 12-year-old initiate, hoping desperately to be chosen by Qui-Gon Jinn. It hadn't ended so well for him - Qui-Gon had refused then to take Obi-Wan as a Padawan Learner. It had taken a good deal of convincing before Qui-Gon finally agreed to give Obi-Wan a chance.

"You don't have to do much," Cin assured him. "Just show up and keep one busy while I help the other three. You aren't looking for a Padawan, are you?"

"No, not yet," Obi-Wan said.

"Good. If you don't mind, I'll tell them that right off the bat. Otherwise, they'll fall all over themselves trying to impress you. You've become quite the celebrity among the initiates, you know."

* * *

><p>The next day, Obi-Wan accompanied Cin to the advanced lightsaber class.<p>

"Obi-Wan, this is Moz Freedan, Ivan Bal-Tova, Mari Amithest, and Seddwia Juro," Cin said briskly." Class, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. No, he is not looking for a Padawan learner. Yes, you will all get a turn practicing with him. Let's begin."

Obi-Wan had forgotten about the frenetic pace Cin maintained during group training sessions. He did his best to keep up as the four initiates rotated positions, each taking a turn with Obi-Wan, who would give pointers and encouragement as needed. Mari and Moz were the two youngest in the class, and needed the most help. Seddwia was fierce and focused in battle, and her hits carried surprising strength for one her size. Ivan was about on par with Seddwia's skills, graceful and exceptionally light on his feet. He was also extremely talkative, and smiled more than any of the other students.

The days and weeks began to pass by quickly for Obi-Wan, absorbed in his new duties. He found himself looking forward to teaching both the 10-year-olds and the 12-year-olds. He enjoyed teaching more than he had expected, although so far he hadn't had any revelations on which of the 10-year-olds might be his future Padawan. The pressure he'd felt at first to be the perfect role model for them had eased somewhat. And the children in both the flight class and the lightsaber class were so upbeat that it was difficult to stay somber around them.

The lightsaber class in particular was becoming more entertaining all the time. The 12-year-olds had apparently gotten comfortable enough with him that they each would pause just before they began sparring with him, to tell him some joke or funny story. Conscious of the need to appear dignified, as befitted a Knight and a teacher, Obi-Wan would smile politely at each attempt at humor and then gently direct the initiate's attention back to work.

One session, it took Obi-Wan so long to get the first three initiates familiar with Set V of Form IV that the class time was up before he could start with Ivan. Ivan looked disappointed as he clipped his training lightsaber to his belt and prepared to leave, but he perked up considerably when Obi-Wan crossed over to him and offered to go through the set with him after last meal that night, during the initiates' free time.

"But I have a study session to go to first," Ivan said. "I'm not sure how long it will take."

"Just come find me when you're ready," Obi-Wan said. "I'll be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, swimming in the lake."

Ivan nodded in agreement, but had one last thing to say before leaving for his next class.

"Master Kenobi? Have you ever been to Jakk's?"

"I used to go there all the time with my friend Garen, but I haven't been there for years," Obi-Wan replied. Jakk's was a restaurant just a short walk from the Temple that catered especially to children, featuring a lot of unhealthy food and game consoles at every table. It was popular with all the initiates at the Temple.

"Well, me and my friends were all hanging around there yesterday, and you'll never guess who came walking through the door. Master Yoda!"

"Master Yoda? At Jakk's?" Obi-Wan said in surprise.

"Yep. We were surprised to see him there, too, seeing as he's a bit over the age limit, but then we figured out that all the tables and chairs there are just his size."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Makes sense."

"Anyway, he hobbled up to the counter and ordered a Jawa Juice. Jakk told him it was 5 credits, and Master Yoda pulled out some credit chips and started putting them on the counter - and then he realized he only had 4."

"That's embarrassing."

"I know. So Master Yoda starts looking around, and sees us standing there, and he says -" Ivan cleared his throat and began doing a passable Yoda imitation: "'Have any credits, do you, younglings? A little short, am I!'"

There was an impish gleam in Ivan's eyes as he looked expectantly at Obi-Wan, who could feel his lips curving up involuntarily. He struggled valiantly and just barely managed to subdue the urge to laugh. "I see," he said in a carefully controlled voice. "And this all really happened, did it?"

Ivan's face fell. "Oh, come _on_!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "How could you not laugh? That was my best one yet!"

"What is this? Why is everyone always telling me jokes?" Obi-Wan wondered out loud. "Is there a contest to make me laugh or something?"

"What? Who told you?" Ivan demanded.

"You mean - there really is?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised.

Ivan tried to look innocent for a long moment, and then gave it up as a lost cause. "You're so serious all the time. I told everyone I'd trade room assignments with whoever got you to laugh first. My room has the best view."

"I take it no one's succeeded, then," Obi-Wan said wryly.

"Not yet," Ivan said with a smile. "But I feel confident I'll win."

"Why, what's in it for you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Maybe I just want to see you laugh," Ivan said.

Then he paused in the doorway and admitted, "Plus, I would like to keep my room."

* * *

><p>It had been some time since Bant had disappeared from sight, but Obi-Wan doggedly kept swimming in the general direction he'd last seen her in, descending deeper and deeper into the artificial lake in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. As a Mon Calamari, Bant swam much faster than he did and she had a tendency to get ahead, then tease him mercilessly about his inferior swimming skills afterward.<p>

Obi-Wan clamped his teeth down firmly on the rebreather in his mouth and exhaled slowly, sending bubbles up to the surface. He was so deep now that the green light that filtered down from the garden was fading to black. Even if Bant were down here, he'd never be able to see her, and it must be about time to meet up with Ivan. Giving up, Obi-Wan resigned himself to getting a ribbing from Bant and kicked his feet vigorously, ascending rapidly toward the light overhead.

When his head broke the surface, he treaded water as he looked around. He felt a wave of mild exasperation. There was Bant, floating lazily on her back several hundred meters away and chatting with Ivan, who was sitting on a low bridge that spanned the lake and swinging his booted feet a few inches above the water.

Sighing, Obi-Wan took the rebreather out of his mouth and swam with quick strokes to the bridge. He reached up and clung to the bridge with one hand while he clipped the rebreather to his swim shorts with the other.

"Hello there," he said to Ivan.

"It's about time, slowpoke!" Bant said, slapping his shoulder with a dripping wet flipper. "We've been waiting for ten minutes. You swim like a bantha."

Pointedly ignoring this, Obi-Wan pushed back his wet hair, which was now nearly long enough to fall into his eyes, and addressed Ivan. "And I see that you've met my friend Bant, who is always so civilized."

"Oh, I already know Bant," Ivan said easily.

"Remember that class I'm helping Master Yuni teach?" Bant said to Obi-Wan. "Ivan's one of our top students. He has a real gift for healing."

"Do you really?" Obi-Wan asked Ivan. "That's wonderful." Ivan shrugged and blushed a bit, but made no attempt to contradict Bant.

"Is that what tonight's study session was for, then? Healing?"

"No, diplomacy. We're being tested next week on techniques to bring the parties to a compromise."

"Ah, the fine art of negotiation," Obi-Wan said. "How do you like it so far?"

"Well... it's a bit boring, to be honest," Ivan admitted.

"It was Obi-Wan's best subject," Bant put in. "You better not knock it in his presence, or you might find yourself taking an unexpected swim."

Ivan smiled at the idea. "I know you would never do something like that," he assured Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan glanced at Bant significantly, then cleared his throat and pointed at Ivan's belt. "Is that a new lightsaber?"

Ivan looked down, too. "No, it's the same one I always train with."

"May I see it?"

"Yeah, just don't drop it in the water while the blade's on. I already got a scolding from Master Drallig for ruining my old one that way a few months ago." Ivan unclipped the lightsaber and handed it to Obi-Wan, who held firmly onto the bridge with one hand as he examined the weapon closely.

"Hmmm. You're right, it is the same one," Obi-Wan said, and then gently lobbed it toward the grass near the bridge. A Jedi sitting there in a meditative pose instinctively put his hand out and caught the hilt neatly, then looked around, startled, to see where it came from.

Ivan looked at the lightsaber hilt and then back at Obi-Wan, puzzled. "Why did you -" was all the further he got before Obi-Wan launched himself up, grabbed a handful of Ivan's tunic, and yanked him into the water.

Ivan came up spluttering and gasping and struggling to stay afloat with his boots weighing him down.

Obi-Wan tried to help Ivan get a grip on the bridge, but he was laughing too hard and Bant had to help, although she was giggling as well. At last Ivan hung onto the bridge and good-naturedly joined in the laughter.

"I never thought in a million years you would actually do it!" he exclaimed, flicking water at Obi-Wan.

"That's why I had to," Obi-Wan said, grinning. "And it's no use splashing me, you can't get me any wetter. "

"You need a haircut, by the way," Obi-Wan added, watching Ivan try to push long strands of dripping wet black hair out of his eyes.

"Over my dead body."

"Bant, why is it that all the 12-year-old boys in the Temple go around with these ridiculous mops of hair on their heads?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Because they all want to be able to make a decent braid the moment they become Padawans," Bant said. "I should think you know that well enough, Obi-Wan, because when you were that age you -"

Obi-Wan clapped his hand over Bant's mouth, but it didn't do any good because the Mon Calamari's mouth was so much larger than his hand.

"- did the same thing," Bant finished, shoving Obi-Wan's hand away from her face.

"Hey!" Ivan said triumphantly. "You laughed at me. I think that means I won."

"He had a bet with his friends," Obi-Wan explained to Bant. "The first one to get me to laugh wins. Now Ivan gets to keep the room with the finest view in Coruscant."

"Don't call me Ivan," Ivan said. "My friends call me Vanya."

"Ah, so throwing you in a lake is the way to earn your friendship?" Obi-Wan said. "I wish I'd known that earlier."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I'd love to hear your review! They're really helpful to let me know if I'm heading in the right direction with my stories. Thanks!**  
><strong>


	10. Chapter 9

**SmileyFaceSaysHiXD and LadySaxophone: **Will Anakin and Qui-Gon return in my story? The answer is absolutely yes! I've taken a little sidetrack into OC-land, but rest assured there will be plenty of good canon-character stuff coming soon!**  
><strong>

**Laerwen Morfinnel: **Thanks for the review! I love your username, very Elvish. :-) I currently don't have plans to bring in Garen and Reeft, but it's possible they may pop up at some point.**  
><strong>

**Katerinaki:** I also love stories where Qui-Gon doesn't die and Obi-Wan gets a more gentle transition from student to teacher. I guess that's partly why I wrote this!

You ask a lot of great questions about the river stone. We will learn more about it as time goes on. As to whether it is just a meteorite, or if it actually has Force powers, well, that all depends on whether you trust 13-year-old Obi-Wan's conclusions, or adult-Obi-Wan's. :-D**  
><strong>

I'm glad you liked "Celebrity is as Celebrity Does" - I had so much fun writing that one!**  
><strong>

**Valairy Scot and Jedi Kay-Kenobi: **Thank you! I love to temper drama with a bit of light-heartedness. It is honestly emotionally wearing to write the serious stuff and even as a writer I need a break from it!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

"Where is your mind tonight?" Obi-Wan asked Ivan.

"Sorry, Master Kenobi," Ivan said, picking up his lightsaber again and trying to look more alert. They had met for another evening lesson, which had started to become a routine for them. Cin Drallig had encouraged it, as it freed him up to spend more time with the other three initiates during class time. Generally the lessons went well, but tonight the boy had gradually become distracted and unexpectedly clumsy, repeatedly losing his weapon when Obi-Wan counter-attacked.

"Vanya, I asked for an explanation, not an apology," Obi-Wan said gently. "Is it anything I can help with?"

Ivan lowered his saber and thought for a long moment. "I'm worried about the tournament," he said at last.

"You're doing well," Obi-Wan said. "There's no need to be anxious, as long as you stay focused."

"It isn't so much the fighting I'm worried about," Ivan said slowly. "I ... suppose you already know about the incident at last year's tournament..."

"No," Obi-Wan said. "I never set foot in the Temple all last year."

"Oh. Well, my teachers thought I might be ready to be apprenticed, even though I was only 11, so I prepared for the tournament. I ... was really hoping that Shadday Potkin would choose me as her Padawan. I did everything I could to impress her, and after I fought in the tournament, she asked me to be her Padawan."

Ivan looked down at his feet. "I was so proud ... I opened my mouth to say yes, but then... I couldn't. I couldn't."

"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I don't know," Ivan whispered. "That's the worst part. I thought I was ready ... sometimes I still convince myself that I was. That I _am_. I'm not sure if I was listening to the will of the Force ... or if I was just scared."

"So, you turned her down."

Ivan nodded. "Everyone talked about it for months. No one turns down a master. Especially not one like Shadday Potkin - one of the best of the best. I think she assumed I wasn't ready, that I'd feel differently in a few months, or a year. She still hasn't chosen a Padawan. She'll be there at the tournament. If she asks me again ... Even now, I don't know what I'll say."

"You've meditated on this?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Incessantly. I haven't gotten any answers."

Obi-Wan thought about that. "That's often the way the Force tells you to wait."

"Wait," Ivan repeated dully.

"Do you enjoy worrying about it?" Obi-Wan asked.

Ivan laughed a little. "Of course not."

"Then don't," Obi-Wan said. "Have a little faith. When the time comes, you will know what to do. In the meantime, live in the moment. That's one of your gifts, you know. When I'm with you ... you bring me closer to the moment than I've been in a long time."

Ivan looked at him in surprise. Obi-Wan was smiling, a smile that reached across his whole face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. Obi-Wan nodded to him and ignited his lightsaber again. "Come, let's spar."

"More practice?" Ivan asked.

"No, more fun," Obi-Wan said. "You know what that is, I presume?"

"Yes, but are grown-up Jedi Knights allowed to have fun?"

Obi-Wan looked around them carefully.

"No sign of Master Windu," he said. "It will be our little secret."

* * *

><p>After their sparring session was over, Ivan headed to the initiates' dormitories, but despite feeling tired in body, Obi-Wan wasn't sleepy and he ended up strolling along the Meditative Walkway, a miles-long corridor that spanned the perimeter of the Temple. It was late and the walkway was deserted. Obi-Wan let the stillness seep into him, like water into a dry riverbed.<p>

_It was foolish of me to stay away from the Temple for so long,_ he admitted to himself. _Attachment may be forbidden, but connection is not._

It was a relief to feel connections again, to swim with Bant each day and remember why she was his best friend, to laugh and joke for hours with Garen when he was there between missions, to keep Reeft company while he raided the Temple refectory late at night. The only thing missing was Siri... but Obi-Wan quickly veered himself away from that line of thought.

And he was making new connections, with all his students. Especially Ivan. Obi-Wan realized the boy had been partly responsible for lifting him out of his melancholy. He wished he could return the favor, but he didn't know how. Ivan wasn't much like himself - in fact, he reminded Obi-Wan a little of Qui-Gon. He had a natural connection to the Living Force - not as single-mindedly as Qui-Gon, perhaps, but he did have the same easy empathy with those around him. The boy would be able to work out for himself whether Shadday Potkin was the right Master for him, Obi-Wan was sure.

Thinking of Ivan's similarity to Qui-Gon almost made Obi-Wan wonder whether perhaps, one day, he would be ready to form a connection with Qui-Gon again.

_I've behaved childishly,_ he thought with regret. _I've given Qui-Gon every reason to believe I wish to have nothing more to do with him. He's respected my wishes - he's never even tried to speak to me since I returned._

_But if he did ... am I capable of connecting with him, without attaching myself again? Or would it be safer to leave things as they are?_

"Obi-Wan?"

With a jolt, Obi-Wan came to himself and realized that at some point in his mental conversation with himself, he had stopped walking and was now simply standing in the middle of the dimly lit walkway, looking at nothing.

He looked down, where the voice had come from, and saw Master Yoda gazing at him with a curious expression.

"Late it is, young one," Yoda said. "Sleeping, you should be."

"You aren't sleeping either, Master," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Much on my mind, there is," Yoda said. "Hundreds of years' worth of worry. Only a few decades of worries, have you."

Obi-Wan laughed lightly. "You have a way of putting things into perspective, Master Yoda."

Master and Knight fell silent for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

Obi-Wan felt a soft but insistent prickle raising the hairs on the back of his neck, a nudge from the Force, trying to tell him something, but he wasn't certain what. Something about Qui-Gon? About Vanya? Or both? Obi-Wan knew he was thinking about it too hard. Answers didn't come from the Force when one demanded them.

"Run with me, you should," Yoda said.

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't run with Yoda since before he was a Padawan. It was a training exercise the tiny Master used for the initiates when they were first learning to elevate their consciousness above the demands of their bodies and their own mental chatter, achieving a pure connection to the Force.

It was exactly what he needed. Obi-Wan nodded his assent, and Yoda leaned his gimer stick against the stone wall and nimbly climbed up Obi-Wan's robe to settle himself high on the Jedi Knight's back, his clawed hands gripping Obi-Wan's shoulders. Obi-Wan took a slow, deep breath, and began to run.

As he ran, he systematically cleared his mind of distractions, focusing solely on becoming an empty vessel, feeling the Force lighten the burden on his shoulders and quicken his pace until the stone walls of the Meditative Walkway became no more than a vague gray blur. His boots made little sound on the carpeted floor. His weariness vanished. He thought nothing. He desired nothing. He simply _was_.

Time moved strangely in this state of mind, and Obi-Wan couldn't tell if he had been running for a minute or an hour when he stopped, bending over slightly and panting for breath. Yoda silently patted his shoulder and slid down off Obi-Wan's back, retrieving his gimer stick from against the wall. So they had come full circle. Obi-Wan wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his robe. He felt as though he were buzzing with vibrations in the Force, but he didn't try to discern the meaning of them, yet.

Yoda nodded to him. "Good night, Obi-Wan," he said.

"Good night, Master."

Obi-Wan returned to his quarters, undressed, and laid down in his bed. The buzzing of the Force was more subdued now, and it let him sleep.

He dreamed.

_He dreamed of stars. Standing knee-deep in a cool river, staring up at the brilliant swirls of the galaxy stretching across the night sky, unmarred by artificial lights. He smelled the fragrant scent of living greenery and heard the soft sounds of nocturnal insects. It seemed he could feel the spinning of the planet beneath him. He was utterly alone._

_Or so he thought. Soft splashes sounded behind him, and he turned his head to see Qui-Gon wading through the river toward him, a gentle smile on his lips. As Obi-Wan turned to face him, Qui-Gon extended his hand as if to give Obi-Wan something. _

_Without thinking, Obi-Wan also extended his hand, and Qui-Gon dropped something small and heavy into it. Without looking, Obi-Wan knew it was the river stone his Master had given him many years ago. He curled his fingers tightly around it and let Qui-Gon see his gratitude shining in his eyes._

_"It is beautiful," Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon in his dream. "But what am I to do with it?"_

_Qui-Gon leaned down to look into his eyes intently, as if to put weight behind his next words:_

_"It was made to be given away."_

_For an instant, Obi-Wan rebelled. Give it away? It was __**his**__ river stone, his last connection to Qui-Gon. How could he give it away?_

_"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said in a firm but gentle voice, as though he could read his mind. "Possession is forbidden."_

_"Yes, Master," he replied automatically."But who shall I give it to?"_

_"You will know. When the time comes, you will know."_

* * *

><p>Ivan was having a hard time concentrating on Jocasta Nu's history lesson. He rested his head briefly on the table in front of him and fiercely wished it was one of the rare days when Docent Vant, his clan leader, took the Bear Clan swimming in the lake in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Ivan had been feeling the urge to go swimming all morning, ever since he woke up from a dream in which he was sitting by a river looking up at the stars - despite the fact that he had never actually seen a real river. He'd only seen them in holoimages. Coruscant hadn't boasted a natural body of water in millennia.<p>

At least lightsaber class was next. Masters Drallig and Kenobi would keep him challenged enough that it would drive all thoughts of swimming from his mind, Ivan was sure.

But when he arrived in the training room with the other students, a female Togruta Knight was there assisting Cin Drallig, and Master Kenobi was nowhere to be seen. Mari asked where he was.

"He isn't permitted to help you get ready for the tournament anymore," Master Drallig said, "because he'll be at the tournament himself, looking for a Padawan."

A ripple of surprise went through all four of the students, which immediately turned to excitement in Mari, Moz and Seddwia, all of whom immediately wondered if maybe Master Kenobi had been impressed by their skills, if maybe he would be watching them specifically during the tournament.

Ivan, on the other hand, stumbled through his exercises in a daze, and when at last class was over and it was his free time, he went straight to his room, flopped on his bed, closed his eyes, and whacked his head with his fist.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he groaned.

A voice in his doorway prompted him to open his eyes. Docent Vant, his clan leader, was poking her head through the door. "Why are you damaging yourself, Ivan?" she asked, her blue lekku twitching nervously.

"Because I'm such a nerf-brain!" he moaned, closing his eyes again.

Docent came in, closing the door behind her, and sat next to him on the bed, waiting patiently.

"Did you know Obi-Wan Kenobi was looking for a Padawan?" he asked her.

"No," she said. "That's good, isn't it? Better chances for everyone to find a Master."

"No, it's _not_ good," Ivan said with feeling. "Do you realize what I've been doing for the last few months? I've been ... I don't know, befriending him or something. Trying to make him laugh... I made an utter fool of myself! I never would have done any of it I'd thought... if I'd known...

"He's going to think I was campaigning to be his Padawan or something!" he burst out at last.

"And you weren't?" Docent asked.

"No, I wasn't! Master Drallig said he wasn't looking for a Padawan! Shavit, I told him all about my disaster with Shadday Potkin! He must think I'm completely hopeless!"

"Does it matter so much what Obi-Wan Kenobi thinks of you?" Docent asked softly.

Ivan sat up and tried to calm down a little. "Docent - I think I finally figured out what went so wrong when Shadday asked me to be her Padawan," he said more quietly. "I wanted so much for her to ask me, but not because it was the will of the Force. The truth is - - I think I was just ambitious. I just wanted to be able to say that one of the best Knights wanted to teach me. Maybe it _is _the will of the Force that she teach me - but I've too busy with my own selfish pride to even hear what the Force had to say about it."

"And now, what have I done?" he continued. "I've been throwing myself at the _Sith-slayer_, of all people! Talk about ambition!"

"I don't think he likes being called that," Docent said.

Ivan's shoulders slumped. "I know," he said.

"Don't you think Obi-Wan knows that you didn't know he was looking for a Padawan?" Docent said. "If I were him, I'd be pleased that someone was trying to be my friend, with apparently nothing to gain from it."

"I guess..." Ivan said slowly.

Docent patted his shoulder reassuringly, and left him alone with his thoughts. Ivan sighed, and rested his forehead against the wall. He still had no idea what he would say if Master Potkin asked him to be her Padawan. And he wasn't sure whether he wanted Master Kenobi to ask him instead. Things were more confusing than ever.

* * *

><p>Ivan didn't see Master Kenobi at all in the last few weeks before the tournament. He'd done his best to meditate on his dilemma every day, but he still wasn't sure what the will of the Force was. Maybe the Force knew he could be happy apprenticed to either Knight. He'd just have to compete in the tournament, and wait to see which one asked him. And if they both asked him ... he'd be in trouble.<p>

The day of the tournament came. Ivan and Moz changed into their loose-fitting white tunics and trousers in the boys' locker room, both too nervous to speak to each other. They tied strips of cloth around their foreheads to keep their hair and the sweat out of their eyes, and went out into the center of the bowl-shaped arena together, where Mari and Seddwia were already dressed and waiting. The four of them turned in unison to the section where the Masters were sitting and bowed low. Ivan couldn't bring himself to look directly at them, but he was aware that Yoda and Mace Windu were sitting on the top level to supervise, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a small group of potential Masters sitting just below them. Obi-Wan and Shadday were sitting right next to each other, Ivan realized with a shudder, Obi-Wan's slightly rumpled, shoulder-length hair in sharp contrast to Shadday's sleek dark braid. Ivan swallowed hard and tried to control his breathing. _In ... out ... in ... out. Release the tension into the Force ..._

Ivan narrowed his focus down to encompass only the floor of the arena, shutting out the spectators above. He moved through each round of the tournament, doing his best to concentrate solely on blocking the blows of his opponents and focusing through the Force so he could foresee their tactics, and counterattack as effectively as possible. He defeated Mari. Then he defeated Moz. His fight with Seddwia lasted a long, long time. They both got plenty of hits on each other and wore each other down to exhaustion, but in the end Seddwia was able to land the "killing" blow. Still, Ivan was not too disappointed in himself. He knew he'd done reasonably well, and he'd remained calm the whole fight. He and Seddwia bowed to each other, and then turned and bowed to the Masters as well.

Ivan went back down into the locker room with Moz to shower and change, and the jitters came back full-force. He hadn't considered the third possibility, he realized with horror - suppose neither one of them asked him? He wished with all his heart that he could stay down in the locker room forever, but he knew the sooner he got this over with, the better. Moz was already going up - Ivan followed him - and Moz was immediately pulled aside by a Master, one Ivan hadn't paid any attention to. Ivan stood a little ways off from them, unsure of what to do now, and then Master Drallig was there by his side, thumping him on the shoulder and telling him he'd done well.

"I think someone wants to talk to you," Master Drallig said, sounding pleased.

Ivan turned slightly and saw Shadday Potkin coming toward him. Behind her, Master Kenobi looked briefly in Ivan's direction, just before he turned away and left the arena.

Ivan felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut.

Well, that answered one question, he realized, trying to recover enough to look polite as Master Potkin started to congratulate him on his performance. Master Kenobi had been the one he'd been hoping for, after all.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

******Author's note**: As always, I love to hear your thoughts!


	11. Chapter 10

**LadySaxophone:** Yep - Obi-Wan definitely needs a real friendship right now, and Ivan's in a good position to supply that.

**obi kenobi:** Never fear. This novel-length story, Guardian of Light, will close the gap between Episode 1 and 2, and I guarantee I will finish it, whether you mind-trick me or not. ;-)

I haven't yet started writing Part 2, which will reimagine Episode 2, but I do have it plotted out and I have high hopes that it will happen.

The prequels should have been about Obi-Wan, I agree! Although I think Qui-Gon is an awesome character, his presence reduced Obi-Wan to a bit part in Episode 1, which means we never got to see Obi-Wan and Anakin form a real friendship before we got to the "he's holding me back" angst in Episode 2. A real missed opportunity.

**Katerinaki:** Well, you'll find out today what Obi-Wan was thinking. :o)

You're right, I think a mini-Qui-Gon would be weird, too, and hopefully I've succeeded in avoiding that trap. They're similar in some ways, but not in others. You'll see as time goes on.

**Valairy Scot:** What, you don't think I created Ivan just to make him a red herring? *evil Palpatine laugh*

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** He'd be crazy not to want Obi-Wan as a Master!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

When Ivan came out of his room the next morning, the first thing he saw was Master Kenobi standing in the hallway talking to Docent Vant. He felt a fresh stab of disappointment, but did his best to suppress it as he said good morning to both of them as he passed by.

To Ivan's surprise, Master Kenobi excused himself to Docent and followed him as he walked down the hall toward the refectory.

"No braid?" Master Kenobi asked, looking at where Vanya's Padawan braid would have been.

"No braid," Ivan said. "I turned down Shadday Potkin. Again."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Good," Ivan said simply. "Everyone's going to talk worse than ever - but I don't even care. I wasn't meant to go with her. It's such a relief to finally _know_ that."

Master Kenobi nodded.

"Then you and I have similar problems," he noted. "You still have no Master - and I still have no Padawan." He lifted an eyebrow at Ivan. "Whatever shall we do?"

Ivan looked at Master Kenobi's expression and felt a strange jolt go through him. Was he suggesting...?

"Stop me if I'm wrong," Master Kenobi said. "But it seems to me that you and I have developed a connection. We are friends - aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," Ivan agreed, a spark of hope igniting in his heart.

"I feel that the Force has brought us together for a reason," Master Kenobi continued. "I think we would work well together. And more than that - I like you. That's why I'm here ... to tell you I would be honored to take you as my Padawan Learner."

Ivan was holding his breath, listening, waiting for the Force to stop him and tell him it was all wrong and that he needed to say no.

"So, what do you say?" Master Kenobi asked.

The Force flowed through Ivan and Master Kenobi, swirling around them and encompassing them, and Ivan shivered with the perfectness of the moment.

"Yes," he said firmly, and the word tasted sweet as he said it. "I would be honored to be your Padawan."

Master Kenobi looked as relieved as Ivan felt. Spreading through Ivan's body, alongside the Force, was a feeling that was not quite happiness - it was more like a quiet gratitude. They smiled at each other and basked in the knowledge that in this moment, all was well with the universe.

"You did that on purpose!" Ivan said suddenly.

"What?"

"Made me think you weren't going to ask me! I've been going out of my mind, you know!"

"Now why would I do a thing like that?"

Ivan thought a moment.

"Because you didn't want to give me an easy out. You wanted me to give you and Shadday the right answers, for the right reasons."

"That's my clever Padawan," Master Kenobi said, rubbing Ivan's head roughly and messing up his hair. Ivan pushed his too-long hair back out of his face and leveled a mock glare at his master.

"You really need a haircut," Master Kenobi said. "You ought to just buzz all that right off."

"Yes, Master," Ivan said agreeably.

* * *

><p>Ivan rubbed his hand thoughtfully against his newly shorn hair, letting his fingers trail down behind his right ear, where a single long lock of black hair still remained, waiting to be braided.<p>

He sat alone in the rotunda chapel in the Tower of First Knowledge where, for thousands of years, Jedi initiates had spend a night in contemplation before formally embarking on their apprenticeship. Ivan wondered how many of them had fallen asleep on the padded meditation platform set directly in the center of the circular stone-walled room. He hoped he wouldn't become the next one to do so.

Many hours had passed, and so far he'd been able to keep awake by shifting positions frequently - kneeling, then standing, then sitting cross-legged, then pacing quietly. There was one large window through which he could watch the Coruscant night traffic soaring back and forth in ordered rows - although the patterns were dangerously hypnotic after a while - and at the other end of the room was an enormous painting of a Padawan kneeling before a Master, who held a lightsaber hilt in her cupped hands. The Padawan's right hand rested on the center of the hilt, and her face was tipped up to her Master's face, which the painter depicted as bathed in light. _The Padawan receives knowledge from the Master,_ Ivan thought sleepily.

The view outside the window began to lighten, almost imperceptibly. Ivan knelt again on the meditation platform and cupped his hands loosely in his lap. He recited the Jedi Code softly to himself as he watched his hands slowly fill with the dawning light.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no death, there is the Force._

* * *

><p>Resting his forehead against the transparisteel windows in the atrium outside the rotunda chapel, Obi-Wan watched the sun's first rays begin to filter through the skyscrapers nearest to the Jedi Temple.<p>

It wasn't tradition for a Knight to stay up all night in contemplation before taking an apprentice, but Obi-Wan had anyway. Taking a young Padawan wasn't considered a step up in rank - although initiates used the title "Master" for all their elders, a Knight typically didn't attain the rank of Master until his first Padawan was knighted - but Obi-Wan felt it was a big step for him nevertheless.

Not for the first time, he wished he could have worked up the courage to ask Qui-Gon for his thoughts and advice about Obi-Wan's new role as a Master. He wondered what Qui-Gon had felt as he took on his first apprentice. Had he felt this humbled, to think that the burden of responsibility for a young life was being laid primarily on his shoulders? Or had he been supremely confident and calm, as he had seemed the day Obi-Wan had been formally apprenticed to him?

The sound of footsteps prompted Obi-Wan to straighten up and turn around. Masters Yoda, Depa Billaba, Adi Gallia and Ki-Adi-Mundi entered the atrium, and Yoda beckoned to Obi-Wan as he opened the door to the rotunda chapel and the Masters silently filed through.

Obi-Wan followed the Masters into the room. Ivan was kneeling on the meditation platform, but when he saw the Masters he quickly got to his feet and tried to look alert despite the shadows under his eyes. The four Council members quietly filed up the circular staircase curving gently up and around the perimeter of the room until they were out of sight. Obi-Wan crossed over to Ivan.

"Good morning, Padawan," he said softly.

"Good morning, Master," Ivan said.

"Are you ready for this?" Obi-Wan asked. _Am I?_

"More than ready."

Obi-Wan smiled, and sat down on the platform, gesturing for Ivan to sit beside him. "Then hold out your hand."

Obi-Wan took two tiny blue bands from a compartment on his belt and dropped them into Ivan's hands, and then he proceeded to gently braid the lock of hair behind Ivan's ear. He secured it in two places with the blue bands, and then briefly rested his hand on the back of the boy's neck.

"Onward and upward," he said, nodding his head toward the staircase.

Obi-Wan led Ivan up the stairs. At the top, many windows let in the early morning light, which reflected off the white floor, walls and ceiling brightly enough to make them all blink. Followed by Ivan, Obi-Wan walked to the center of the room where the symbol of the Jedi Order, an ignited lightsaber flanked by spread wings, was etched into the floor.

The four Council members gathered around the two of them.

"Kneel, Ivan Bal-Tova," Master Yoda said.

As Ivan obeyed, Obi-Wan unclipped the lightsaber hanging from his belt, and held it horizontally in front of him, cupped in his hands.

"On the hilt, place your right hand," Yoda said. "Make your promise."

And Ivan recited the simple words that so many Padawans before him had said in this room: "I am the Learner, you are the Master. I promise to serve you as I learn the ways of the Force."

Obi-Wan gave the ritual answer, "I am the Master, you are the Learner. I promise to serve you as I teach you the ways of the Force."

It was done.

"Good. Yes, very good," Yoda said approvingly, looking back and forth between the two of them. "A good match, this is. Work to be worthy of it, you should."

One by one, the Council members congratulated the new Master-Padawan pair and exited the room. When only the two of them remained, Ivan glanced at Obi-Wan and then shyly looked away, unconsciously fiddling with his Padawan braid as he did so. Obi-Wan had to repress a smile. It had taken him months after his own apprenticing to break himself of the habit of constantly touching his braid, as if to make sure it was still there, and it was all still real, that he really was Qui-Gon Jinn's apprentice.

Unconsciously, Obi-Wan put his hand against his chest to feel the river stone still tucked inside the inner pocket of his tunic, as if to make sure it was still real as well. It was a solid shape between his hand and his heart, and for a moment Obi-Wan thought he felt warmth radiating out of the stone, seeping through the layers of cloth to touch his skin.

And then he knew, as clearly as if the stone had spoken to him in words, that it wanted to be given to Ivan.

Obi-Wan sighed slowly, and slid his hand inside his tunic.

"I have something for you," he said to Ivan as he pulled the stone out of his pocket and laid it in his Padawan's hand.

Puzzled, Ivan looked at the stone in his hand, turning it a bit to see the red glints in the sunlight, and when he looked up again Obi-Wan could see the questions in his eyes._ What is it? Does it do something special? Am I expected to know? Or is it just a rock?_ All the questions he had wanted to ask Qui-Gon when he was a boy.

"It came from the River of Light," Obi-Wan said. "I've been carrying it with me for many years, but it belongs to you now."

It was clear Ivan didn't understand, but then Obi-Wan wasn't sure he did, either. Still, Ivan closed his hand tightly around the stone.

"Thank you, Master," he said. "I will treasure it."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

******Author's note: **I welcome reviews!


	12. Chapter 11

**Laerwen Morfinnel** and** Jedi Kay-Kenobi**: I had a lot of fun imagining the initiation ceremony. I've never read a canon version of it, so the possibilities were endless.

**LadySaxophone**: Yeah, I think going solo is not really Obi-Wan's thing. Hey, I just realized, even Han SOLO has a sidekick! :-D

**Valairy Scot**: I wrote the asking scene while keeping in mind what I liked about my husband's proposal to me - nothing flashy or gimmicky, just sweet and simple!

**Geri K** and **My Flawed Design**: Thank you, I appreciate your reviews!

**obi kenobi**: There will be action coming, yes, and soon! As for the second movie, I won't give too much away except to say that with Qui-Gon alive and the addition of Ivan, some things will naturally be different, but overall I don't consider my story to be extremely AU.

**Torli:** I once had an English teacher tell me to never worry about length - just stop when the story's finished. I think it's good advice. Sometimes you end up with short-and-sweet chapters and it's fine!

**Kenji Hyuga White tiger:** I appreciate that. OCs can be difficult to write!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

It looked like a tornado had struck Obi-Wan's normally tidy quarters.

Ivan had been his Padawan for seven days now, most of which had been spent traveling to Ilum, guiding Ivan through the process of retrieving a crystal and constructing his first lightsaber, and returning home to the Temple. Yet somehow, Ivan had already managed to make his bedroom next to Obi-Wan's a certifiable disaster, and now his things were spilling over into the common room. His new robe was rumpled and hanging over the back of the sofa. His pack from their trip to Ilum was laying in the middle of the floor, thermal gear half-spilling out. The datapads he'd been given to study on his own, now that he would no longer be in the Temple for regular classes, were strewn across the coffee table. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and wondered if this would be a good time to tell Ivan he was a neat freak. He ought to make his expectations clear right at the beginning, he knew, but on the other hand he questioned whether he'd be able to command Ivan's full attention long enough to get the message across. The boy was seated on the sofa, completely absorbed with polishing the lightsaber hilt in his hands, which was brand-new and pristine, in sharp contrast to everything else of his in the room.

"Master, where do you think they'll send us?" Ivan asked suddenly, glancing up.

Master Yoda had contacted Obi-Wan, upon their return to the Temple an hour ago, to tell him to report to the Council chambers with Ivan first thing in the morning to receive their first assignment. Upon hearing this, Ivan had been alternately enthusiastic about preparing to leave, and jittery with nervousness, the latter of which he tried to hide from Obi-Wan without much success. Obi-Wan refrained from telling his Padawan that he was nervous, too, since this would be his first mission with a young, inexperienced Padawan to look after, in addition to whatever task the Council set for them.

"It's impossible to say," he answered Ivan. "There are millions of systems, and we could be sent to any one of them."

"Do you think we could be sent to Kashyyyk?" Ivan asked, his eyes bright with anticipation. "I've always wanted to go there."

"Until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction," Obi-Wan answered reflexively. It was what Qui-Gon had always said, whenever Obi-Wan had asked too many questions about a mission to come. Sometimes it had been an incredibly aggravating answer to hear, but Ivan said, "Yes, Master," very seriously and resumed rubbing an invisible fleck of dust off his blade emitter. Obi-Wan put his hand up to his mouth to hide his smile.

Still, if he didn't end this now, Ivan would spend the entire rest of the evening fiddling with the lightsaber, and adjusting and readjusting the gear on his utility belt - rebreather, comlink, grappling hook, and pouch filled with emergency ration capsules - which he had already done twice. Obi-Wan leaned forward. "Are you hungry, Padawan?"

"I'm always hungry," Ivan said, pausing in his work to flash Obi-Wan a grin.

"Let's go out and get something to eat."

"You mean, out in the city?" Ivan said eagerly.

"Absolutely. Where do you like to go?"

"Oh, I know a great place! Do you like seafood?"

"Sure."

"We should go to CorWa! Have you ever been there?"

"I've never even heard of it," Obi-Wan said.

"It's really great, really unique. You'll love it." Ivan clipped his lightsaber to his belt, took the cleaning kit off his lap and dumped it on top of all the datapads on the coffee table, then pulled his robe off the sofa and tugged it on. Obi-Wan rose and took his robe off its hook, moving slowly because a thought had just occurred to him, one he knew he needed to act on right away before he lost the courage to do it. Besides, there was no telling when he would have another chance. Now that he was being placed back on active duty, he might not be recalled to the Temple for months, and in all probability his furloughs would not coincide with Qui-Gon's.

"Actually, I need to run a quick errand first, if that's all right," he said to Ivan.

"Oh," Ivan said. He glanced out the window. "All right. But the thing is, we have to get there before dark, because sometimes they run out."

"Do you want to go on ahead and save us a table, and I'll catch up to you?"

"Ummm... they don't exactly have tables," Ivan said. "But yes, I can go now and get started."

"They don't have-" Obi-Wan began to ask, and then shrugged. A unique restaurant, indeed. Well, he'd find out soon enough. "All right. Where is this place?"

"Right here in the Temple District. You can walk there. Go to the Fellowship Plaza, take the east underground entrance and go down three levels. From there, turn left and climb up the wall, then just keep going. You can't miss it."

"Got it. See you in a bit." Obi-Wan started to walk out the door, then turned back. "One more thing, Vanya."

"Yes?"

Obi-Wan gestured at the clutter lying around the common room. "All that belongs in your bedroom, Padawan."

Ivan looked around, as if noticing the mess for the first time. "Oh. Sorry, Master."

* * *

><p>As the most densely populated planet in the Core, Coruscant literally teemed with life, but tonight, to Qui-Gon, it seemed gray and barren.<p>

As always, the passageways under the Fellowship Plaza were choked with beings of all shapes, sizes, genders and species going about their business, but after spending weeks in the lush green junglescape of Zonama Sekot, it all seemed vaguely flat and lifeless. Qui-Gon slowed his pace automatically, remembering with awe the mysterious planet he and Anakin had found in the Outer Rim, a place so strong in the Living Force that the planet itself, as they had learned, was a live, sentient being.

It stung his heart to think of how promising the mission had been at the beginning, and how badly it had gone wrong in the end. They had failed to find Vergere. They had failed to bring back to Coruscant the one-of-a-kind starship the natives had built for them. But worst of all, Anakin's encounter with a Blood Carver assassin... Qui-Gon shuddered, though the evening was warm. Anakin was only 11 years old. He had lost his innocence on Zonama Sekot, but he wouldn't talk to Qui-Gon about it. How could he help Anakin if he wouldn't let himself be helped?

A Rodian behind him shoved at Qui-Gon's back impatiently and the Jedi Master sped up again, eager to escape the crowded passageway and reach his destination so he could think in peace.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the passage and began following the route he had first discovered as a boy, before Dooku had taken him as an apprentice. Qui-Gon tried to find the time to return whenever he was on furlough, though he had never bothered trying to bring his Master here. He knew exactly what Dooku's reaction would have been, and since he didn't want to be forbidden from entering the place, he just... failed to mention where he was going and what he was doing.

He had been torn, several times, about whether or not to bring Obi-Wan here, but in the end had decided the place just didn't seem like Obi-Wan's style. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Obi-Wan had loosened up considerably as the years went on, and maybe he would have enjoyed it if Qui-Gon had caught him in the right mood.

Now he would never have a chance to find out.

Qui-Gon ducked into a narrow alleyway, one that was eerily silent and deserted. At the end of the alley, he took a sharp left and used his grappling hook to climb up a half-crumbled duracrete wall. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. There it was, a culvert large enough for Qui-Gon to walk through without stooping. The durasteel grate that normally covered the entrance had already been snipped open with a cutting laser. So he wasn't the first to arrive. Qui-Gon nodded to the lookout stationed high on a wall overseeing the culvert, slipped through the slit in the grate and walked on. Before long, the distant strains of lilting music joined the sound of his boots drumming rhythmically against the metal pipe, and he emerged from the culvert to see several dozen Coruscanti already gathered around the open hatch that led down into the water ducts of the Temple District's Coruscant Water Treatment Plant - known colloquially as CorWa.

Many were vendors, selling everything from Huwen slings and rebreathers to firewood and seasonings, shouting out their prices over the song being played by street musicians and creating a jovial cacophony. Others were gathered around the massive horizontal pipe that led to the water purification filters, already dripping wet from their first dives, and one Chiss was waving his catch triumphantly over his head to the laughing applause of his friends. The round hatch on top of the pipe was propped open, and as Qui-Gon watched a Mon Calamari lowered himself through it into the water, and a geyser shot up as he kicked his flippers vigorously and disappeared into the plumbing.

As usual, Qui-Gon got a few nervous looks from those who looked in his direction and spotted the lightsaber hanging from his belt, but then one of the regulars hollered a cheery greeting to him and Qui-Gon returned it, and everyone relaxed and went back to their business. Qui-Gon found some empty crates piled haphazardly near the open hatch, and seated himself where he had a good view of the divers. Usually he joined them, but tonight he just wanted to watch, and think.

He hadn't been sitting there long when a new arrival emerged from the culvert, a young boy perhaps 12 or 13 with close-cropped black hair, swinging a cooking pot carelessly back and forth in one hand as he looked around with an easy smile on his face. The boy did a double-take when his gaze met Qui-Gon's, and then Qui-Gon did a double-take, too: Like him, the boy had a lightsaber hilt dangling from his belt.

The boy crossed over to the pile of crates and bowed politely to Qui-Gon, and then Qui-Gon could see the tiny Padawan braid tucked behind his right ear. The boy's face seemed familiar - no doubt he had seen him in the corridors of the Temple at some point - but Qui-Gon didn't know his name.

"Good evening, young one," Qui-Gon said. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Qui-Gon Jinn."

The boy laughed a little. "Of course I know who _you_ are, Master Jinn. I'm Ivan Bal-Tova."

"Pleased to meet you." Qui-Gon offered his hand, and they shook hands. "I thought I was the only Jedi crazy enough to come here."

The boy grinned, recognizing it as the compliment it was. "My Master is coming a little later. Then there can be three crazy Jedi." He set his cooking pot down and pulled a Huwen sling out of it, then looked around Qui-Gon thoughtfully. "Didn't you bring a sling, Master Jinn? Do you want to borrow mine?"

"No, thank you, Ivan. I just came to watch tonight."

"Oh. Do you want me to catch you one?"

"You don't need to go to any trouble for me, young one."

"It isn't any trouble. Hunting tokin crabs is one of my specialties."

Qui-Gon smiled. "You're very kind. I'll get a fire going for us."

He headed for the vendors and bought firewood, and when he came back Ivan had stripped down to his undershorts and was standing on top of the pipe, near the open hatch, loading his sling. A Huwen sling was a relatively simple underwater weapon, just a hollow tube with strong elastic bands attached at one end. A fisher would slide a lightweight metal spear into the tube until the butt end of the spear poked out of the end near the stretchy bands. With one hand the fisher held the end of the spear firmly against the bands and pulled it back, much like a child would hold a pebble in the stretchy loop of a primitive slingshot. Once the fisher dived underwater and spotted a tokin crab, he would take aim and release the elastic band, and the spear would shoot forward through the tube to skewer the crab.

Ivan secured a sack made of netting around his left wrist, then unclipped his rebreather from his utility belt, fitted it in his mouth and dived in gracefully. Qui-Gon leaped lightly to the top of the pipe and looked down into the hatch. It looked to be about 20 feet deep before branching off to the right and left, and he saw Ivan swimming with a quick and easy motion in the direction of the filtration devices, where the crabs congregated. Satisfied that the boy knew what he was doing, Qui-Gon left the water's edge and found an unoccupied spot to build the fire, then filled Ivan's pot with water and hung it over the flames.

When he was done, he looked around curiously. He didn't see any sign yet of the third "crazy Jedi," but realized he hadn't asked Ivan who his Master was, and therefore didn't even know what species to look out for. He seated himself again on the crates to wait for Ivan to surface, and watched the group nearest to him prepare to cook the bucketful of crabs they had caught. Qui-Gon caught sight of waving claws and antennae above the rim of the bucket. The lightweight spears used in Huwen slings often failed to kill the crabs, merely injuring them enough so that the fisher could get them to the surface without a struggle. When Qui-Gon participated, he always killed the crab as quickly as possibly the moment he reached the surface, because he couldn't bear to let the creatures suffer any longer than necessary. He endured a lot of teasing from the regulars for it, who all insisted that the crabs had to remain alive until just before you were ready to eat them, or they wouldn't taste fresh. Apparently the group by Qui-Gon believed that too, because with much shrieking and laughing, they were snatching the snapping crabs out of the bucket with their bare hands and dropping them live into the boiling pot of water.

Qui-Gon quickly averted his eyes and tried to throw up his mental shields, but he was a few seconds too late, and through the Force he caught the brunt of the desperate pain and frenzy the creatures felt upon striking the scalding-hot water. He couldn't see them, but he could hear the frantic clicking and scrambling of their claws against the metal pot as they tried to climb out.

Qui-Gon shuddered involuntarily.

Boiled alive. Burned alive.

Dear Force, was _this_ what the Blood Carver had felt as Anakin had killed him?

Before his resulting panic could break through to the surface, Qui-Gon sternly reminded himself of several truths. The Blood Carver had attacked Anakin. It was self-defense. Though Qui-Gon hadn't witnessed the kill, another had, and he knew it to be true. Anakin had not broken the Code, had not done anything wrong. The boy had been weaponless; he had had no choice but to use the Force to kill.

But the _way_ he had killed...

He'd burned the Blood Carver from the inside out. Using nothing but the Force. Qui-Gon had never heard of a Jedi doing that before, hadn't known it was possible. He didn't understand how Anakin could do such a thing, having never been taught how.

Qui-Gon knew Anakin was unique and had anticipated that his intense connection with the Force would work in powerful and unusual ways, but he hadn't been ready for it. He hadn't thought it would manifest itself so quickly, on Anakin's first mission, after only two years of training. And for the first time, Qui-Gon had wondered if he had gotten in over his head. After all, there was no precedence for training a Chosen One. He was on his own.

Feeling sick, and desperate to shut himself off from this self-destructive line of thinking, Qui-Gon looked around to find a distraction and found himself studying the lightsaber hilt resting on top of the clothes Ivan had piled on the crate next to him.

It was smaller than Qui-Gon's, made to fit the hands of a boy, and was mostly shiny silver with an exposed emitter matrix and a black handgrip. The design was clean and simple, the sort that would suit a Soresu practitioner, though Ivan was young enough that his combat style could still go through several evolutions. The hilt was polished so highly that it reflected nearly as well as a mirror.

The sound of wet feet slapping against hard duracrete drew Qui-Gon's attention, and he looked up to see Ivan approach, triumphantly holding a net full of twitching crabs. "Look at this!" the boy exclaimed. "Just look! The plumbing was positively crawling with them. I barely even had to aim!"

Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. Ivan set the net sack on the ground and began to pull it open. As the boy leaned over, a silver chain around his neck swung forward, weighted down by a dark stone fastened to it. Qui-Gon looked at the stone with interest; it was secured to the chain by strands of fine silver wire wrapped in graceful loops around the black stone.

A black stone with streaks of crimson running through it. Its shape was very familiar to Qui-Gon.

Startled, Qui-Gon looked up and took a closer look at Ivan, and confusion swept over him. This was not just any stone. This was the river stone he'd given to Obi-Wan.

What was Ivan Bal-Tova doing with it?

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>Where do you think the story's headed? Let me know. Use the pretty little review button!


	13. Chapter 12

**LadySaxophone:** I understand your frustration! I think the old Jedi Order is a classic example of a group trying so hard to obey the letter of their laws that they forget to follow the spirit of them. A Jedi should be able to put the needs of others over his own, but it isn't healthy to ignore his own needs completely.

** Andromakhe (ch. 11)**: I love the formal rituals too. Although the Jedi Order isn't exactly a religion like our Earth religions, it has worn the trappings of one since the first moments of "A New Hope" - its members are essentially monks, they devote their lives to the service of an unseen force, and Admiral Motti even calls it "an ancient religion." Rituals can be a great teaching tool too, and the Order is definitely invested in teaching. It seemed to fit.

**AndrossKenobi**, **Athar Riordan** and **Above the Winter Moonlight**: I'm so mean to leave you in suspense. I really am. :-D

** Katerinaki:** Yes, Vanya is a nickname for Ivan. And Qui-Gon and Anakin just barely got back from a mission, so they haven't caught up on all the Temple gossip yet. ;-) Hope that helps.

**Geri K**: I think Anakin would be a challenging Padawan for anyone, even Qui-Gon. It bugs me when people try to put all the blame for his fall on Obi-Wan. Yoda himself had a student who went bad (Dooku). And besides, ultimately the responsibility for a student's actions falls on his own shoulders, not his teacher's.

**obi kenobi**: Your guesses are most impressive, my young Padawan. :-D

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi**: I know, it would be awesome! The ultimate in dining experiences.

**Laerwen Morfinnel**: Anakin's disturbing new skill - and the whole Zonama Sekot incident - is something I got from "Rogue Planet" by Greg Bear, which I highly recommend. Don't expect an action-filled book, but the character development and world-building is incredible.

_Author's note:_ I got a lot of reviews for the last chapter, which was wonderful! Out of curiosity, do you all like reading my responses to your comments at the top of each new chapter? Or would you rather get them in a PM?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Obi-Wan hesitated outside the door to Qui-Gon and Anakin's - and his former - quarters, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say. He had decided it was too complicated to try to explain why he'd been avoiding Qui-Gon in the first place, and so he would simply pretend nothing had ever happened and invite them to come meet his new Padawan. He knew Qui-Gon would go along with that, for politeness' sake, no matter what questions he might have about Obi-Wan's withdrawal for the last year and a half. Then things could return to normal.

Maybe. Hopefully.

Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan pressed the button by the door and heard the familiar chime sound on the other side.

He waited for long enough that he was beginning to think no one was inside, when the door finally slid open to reveal Anakin Skywalker. He looked differently than Obi-Wan remembered; a bit taller, of course, and his hair was darker now that it was no longer bleached by the scorching light of Tatooine's twin suns, but he also looked more somber, somehow. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan and said nothing.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, a bit unnerved by the boy's expressionless face. "Hello there. Is Qui-Gon here?"

"No," Anakin said dully.

"Oh." Obi-Wan cleared his throat again. "Will he be back soon?"

"I don't know. He left so I could meditate."

"Oh, dear. I interrupted you. I'm sorry, I can come back later."

"No!" Anakin said, suddenly coming to life. "I wasn't really meditating. I was just... just..." He took a sharp breath. "You don't have to go. You can come in if you want." There was a subtle pleading in his voice, and as Obi-Wan looked more closely at Anakin he realized the boy's eyes were red-rimmed.

Obi-Wan hesitated for the barest moment. Ivan was waiting for him, but he sensed that Anakin needed his company more than Ivan did right now.

"All right," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin stepped aside to let him in.

"Do you want some tea or something?" Anakin asked. "I make lousy tea, though. Qui-Gon usually makes it."

Obi-Wan smiled a little. "You probably make it just fine. Qui-Gon is particular about his tea, that's all. It took me a few years to learn how to make it just how he likes it. Want me to show you?"

"Okay."

Living quarters in the Temple didn't have full kitchens, since there were refectories scattered liberally throughout the Temple, but there was a sink and a small heating element tucked away in a nook of the common room. Anakin filled the kettle with water and put it on to heat while Obi-Wan, feeling vaguely as though he were breaking into someone else's home, found the canister of sapir leaves exactly where it had always been kept and showed Anakin how to measure it out properly into two sieves.

"I saw Master Leem earlier tonight," Obi-Wan said. "She was preparing to leave the Temple just as we arrived in the hangar bay. She mentioned you and Qui-Gon had just come back from your first mission?"

"Yeah," Anakin said.

"So you've managed to check off another star system on your list." Obi-Wan remembered Anakin's boasts as they left Tatooine about how he was going to be the first to visit every star system in the galaxy. "Where did you go? How did you like it?"

"We went to Zonama Sekot."

"Really?" Obi-Wan asked, intrigued. "You actually found it?" The planet was legendary as the location of the shipyards where the fastest ships in the galaxy were rumored to be built, although the place was steeped in so much mystery that Obi-Wan had often wondered as a boy if it really existed. "Don't let the water boil," Obi-Wan added hastily as he glanced at the kettle. "Watch it closely and as soon as you see those tiny bubbles, it's ready." Anakin grabbed a hot pad and moved the kettle off the heat.

"Did you get to see one of their ships?" he asked Anakin, setting each sieve on top of an empty mug.

"Better than that," Anakin said. "We got to help them build one for us. Or grow it, I mean. I guess it was a little of both. My ship - she was alive. I mean she was actually, really alive. I named her _Jabitha_."

"Now add a drop of essence of kopi," Obi-Wan said, "and not too much. That's it. A little goes a long way. It sounds like your ship was very special."

"She was amazing." Anakin's voice grew quiet with reverence.

"And she's here now, at the Temple?"

Anakin stood there holding the kettle, motionless. "No," he said unsteadily. "She died. She got hurt in a fight, and she died before we could even get her home."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said softly.

"I should have been able to save her," Anakin whispered. "She was perfect, she flew perfectly, I just didn't pilot her well enough. Next time..." His hands were balled into fists. "I'll just have to learn to fly better, that's all," he said swiftly, averting his eyes from Obi-Wan and pouring the water recklessly enough to splash some on the counter.

"It's good to improve yourself, of course," Obi-Wan said gently. "But sometimes bad things happen even when you do everything right. Not everything is in your control, you know."

Anakin looked rebellious at this, but instead of arguing he changed the subject. "I'll bet you did brilliantly on _your_ first mission. Like you do with all your missions."

"I most certainly did not. I made mistakes left and right. Blast, we forgot to time the steeping. If we've left it in too long the tea will be bitter." Obi-Wan took the sieve off one mug and carefully tasted the hot tea. "Too weak. We'll leave it in a bit longer.

"And how do you know anything about my missions?" he added suddenly.

"I've read all about them," Anakin said. "Whenever Qui-Gon takes me to the Archives to study, he checks to see if you've posted any new reports, and then we read them together. He says you're already better than half the Knights in the Temple, even some of the older ones."

"He said that?" Obi-Wan said, startled. Qui-Gon had always been spare with his compliments, and throughout their partnership had continually pressed Obi-Wan to do better at whatever subject he was studying. As a result, Obi-Wan had never been entirely sure how he measured up in Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Yeah." Anakin tasted his tea. "Is it right now?"

"Ah. Much better. Now don't throw out the leaves. The flavor can be better after the second or third steeping."

They took their mugs to the common room and sat across from each other, spending a few minutes in companionable silence as they stirred the tea to cool it down.

"Did you have to kill anybody?" Anakin asked abruptly.

Startled, Obi-Wan put his mug down. "I beg your pardon?"

"On your first mission. You said you messed up. Did you have to kill anyone?" Anakin's face was as tense as Obi-Wan had ever seen it.

"I killed a lot of people," Obi-Wan said quietly.

"Can you... can you tell me...?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Qui-Gon and I were on this rickety old Corellian barge heading for Bandomeer. The ship was attacked by Togorian pirates and all the crewmembers in the cockpit were killed in the fighting. We were drifting in space and taking a beating. Qui-Gon was busy trying to hold off one of the boarding parties, so he sent me to see if I could get into the cockpit. I managed to do it, and then... I opened fire on the pirates' gunship. Destroyed it completely. I don't even know how many were on board, but I'm sure it was at least several dozen.

"But that wasn't even the end of it. Then I accelerated the ship to try to get away from the fight, and I didn't even think about the pirate ships that were still coupled to ours. I tore the ships from their moorings and ended up killing a lot of the boarders, too."

Anakin absorbed this for a long moment. "Then you were lucky," he said at last. "You didn't have to see them." His face was white, and he shut his eyes tightly.

Obi-Wan waited, and finally Anakin said in a strangled voice, "I killed someone." He took a shaky breath. "There was this Blood Carver, and he tried to kill me and Jabitha - not my ship, I mean, she was the girl I named the ship after - and Qui-Gon wasn't there, and I didn't even have a lightsaber because the Council didn't want me to have one yet, and I just got so... so... scared, and all of a sudden I got mad at him and I could feel something burning inside me, burning and burning, and I couldn't stop it, I tried but I couldn't, and I..." Anakin roughly smeared at the tears on his cheeks.

"I sort of burned him up," he choked out.

Obi-Wan didn't understand exactly what that meant, but Anakin was clearly distressed, and so he got up from his chair and went to sit on the sofa next to Anakin. "It's all right," he murmured, putting his arm around the boy until gradually his breathing quieted.

At last, when Anakin was a bit calmer, he opened his eyes. "You won't tell Qui-Gon this, will you?" he asked in a tremulous voice.

"He doesn't know?"

"He knows I killed, but I didn't tell him... about how mad I got. You won't tell, will you?"

"Anakin, it isn't my place to interfere with your training. If Qui-Gon needs to be told something, you should be the one to do the telling."

"I can't tell him!" Anakin said. "He'll get mad."

"Qui-Gon doesn't get mad."

"You know what I mean! He'll punish me."

"Has Qui-Gon ever punished you?"

"No." Anakin rubbed his face with his sleeve. "But I never messed up before. I don't want him to send me back home. To Tatooine, I mean."

Obi-Wan sat there, lost in confusion. Why would Anakin think that Qui-Gon would react that way? He was a stern Master, yes, but he was also kind.

Then it occurred to him that the last being Anakin had called "Master" had probably also been stern - and decidedly _not_ kind. Obi-Wan had never met Watto, the owner of the junk shop in Mos Espa and the slavemaster of Anakin and his mother, but somehow he doubted the Toydarian had been gentle or forgiving toward a slave who made a mistake.

"Punishment isn't the Jedi way, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "Expectations are high for Padawans, yes, but Qui-Gon is your teacher, not a disciplinarian. He knows you're going to make mistakes. He expects it. It's his job to help you, not punish you."

"But I don't want him to know that I'm... I'm a bad Jedi."

"Making a mistake does not make you a bad Jedi. A good Jedi is not one who follows the Code perfectly, but one who constantly strives to follow the Code more perfectly than he has in the past. Anakin, I made plenty of mistakes when I was Qui-Gon's Padawan, some of them quite serious, and he always forgave me. I really think you would be happier if you talked to him about this and let him help you."

"If I do, would you come with me?"

Inwardly Obi-Wan sighed, thinking of Ivan still waiting for him at CorWa. Deserting him tonight was probably not the best way to begin their partnership, but he felt like Anakin needed him more right now. Hopefully Ivan would understand. "I can go with you, but you need to do the talking yourself, all right?"

"All right," Anakin said meekly. "I'll take you to CorWa."

Obi-Wan paused in the process of putting his robe back on. "Did you say CorWa?"

"Yeah. The Coruscant Water Treatment Plant. That's where Qui-Gon said he was going."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	14. Chapter 13

**LadySaxophone, Valairy Scot and Laerwen Morfinnel**: The Obi-Wan/Anakin dynamic really does change when they're not master and apprentice. It's easier to be friends with someone when you don't have formal responsibility over them.

** Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** I think it's hard for our modern minds to comprehend putting a 12-year-old kid in the position of possibly having to kill. Even for a Jedi, that would have to be hard for them to process - and Anakin already had issues, as you said, from his years as a slave. Tough situation for him.

**CC-645:** Are you from Russia by chance? ;-) It's a fine name.

**Andromakhe**: Yeah, Obi-Wan wouldn't admit it, but he does crave acceptance from Qui-Gon and I'm sure the desertion on Naboo still stings, even if logically he understands it needed to happen.

**My Flawed Design:** Thanks!

**obi kenobi:** Is this update fast enough for you? ;-) I've been looking forward to this chapter as well. It was one of my favorites to write.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Qui-Gon stared at the river stone Ivan was wearing around his neck. He supposed there were any number of explanations for why the boy had it instead of Obi-Wan, but the one foremost in his mind was that the stone may have once again been passed from Master to apprentice.

Obi-Wan, a Master?

Thinking of the possibility sent several emotions flooding through Qui-Gon: wonderment and pride, mixed with a tinge of sorrow that he couldn't quite explain. But if that were the case…

_Master is coming later_, Ivan had said.

And Obi-Wan had made it abundantly clear he didn't want to see Qui-Gon anymore.

Ivan was on his knees, using a short knife to dispatch several crabs swiftly and mercifully. Qui-Gon jumped to his feet. "Ivan."

"I know," Ivan said quickly, misunderstanding. "I know I'm supposed to keep them alive until the water's boiling, but I just can't stand to feel their pain that long."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ivan, but I've got to leave now."

"Why, what's wrong?" Ivan's brown eyes were suddenly filled with concern.

"I left Anakin at the Temple to meditate, but I think I need to be with him now." That much was true, at least. Qui-Gon had not wanted to leave Anakin alone tonight in the first place, but his presence had clearly been distressing to the boy, and at last he had thought it best to give Anakin some privacy. But now it had become paramount to give Obi-Wan his privacy.

Puzzled, Ivan glanced over Qui-Gon's shoulder. "But isn't that him right there?" Suddenly his eyes lit up. "And Master!"

* * *

><p>Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he'd been expecting after Ivan's description of CorWa, but a water treatment plant was most definitely not it. He looked around in puzzlement at the various beings walking around swinging net sacks full of some kind of live creatures, and the steaming pots hanging over cooking fires, and the vendors strolling around shouting about what they were selling.<p>

Anakin, however, took it all in stride. "Looks like Mos Espa's central market. Minus all the sand."

They weaved their way through the crowd, looking for either Qui-Gon or Ivan.

"Master!" a voice shouted, and suddenly Ivan was running up to them, soaking wet and wearing nothing but his undershorts, and the river stone around his neck. "I thought you got lost! Look how many I got already!" He waved a couple of dead creatures in front of Obi-Wan's face.

"That's... great, Ivan. Uh, what _are_ they?"

"Freshwater tokin crabs. They're really good. You said you liked seafood, right?"

"Yes, but where in the galaxy did you _get_ them?"

"Out of the plumbing." Ivan pointed at a massive pipe nearby, with a steady stream of divers going in and coming out of the hatch at the top. "There's a whole bunch of them in there."

"Wait. Wait a minute." A sudden horrified feeling was creeping over Obi-Wan's body. "Are you saying that the water that goes from here to the Temple for us to _drink_ is crawling with those... those..."

"...tokin crabs," Ivan supplied.

"Tokin crabs, right, not to mention all those people who are swimming in the water we _drink_..."

Anakin was laughing, blast him.

"Oh, it all goes through a filtration system before it's redirected to the culinary water lines," Ivan assured him blithely. "It's fine. Perfectly clean. I promise."

"But why are there crabs in there in the first place?" Obi-Wan persisted. "They can't very well be native to the plumbing."

"Well, CorWa puts schools of tiny little picayunes in the water because they eat impurities in the water supply faster and cheaper than the machines can, but sometimes the population gets out of control, so then they put the crabs in to eat the picayunes. Then there are too many crabs, so we come and eat _them_."

Obi-Wan looked around at the fires. "Padawan, did you know it's illegal to have an open fire without a permit? Force knows the air on Coruscant is polluted enough as it is."

Ivan's face fell a little.

Obi-Wan passed his hand over his eyes. "Oh, no. You already built a fire, didn't you?"

"Uh..."

"He didn't build it," a voice said from Obi-Wan's left. "I did."

It was Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan instinctively smoothed his robe before turning to face his former Master.

" Hello," Obi-Wan said.

"Hello." Qui-Gon's face was impassive.

"How- How are you?"

"Fine. And you?"

"Fine," Obi-Wan said.

"Good."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Ivan looked suddenly at Obi-Wan, concern etched on his face, and Anakin was looking back and forth between both masters in puzzlement.

"I was just leaving," Qui-Gon said quietly. "Ivan, it was wonderful to meet you. Obi-Wan, it was good to see you. Time to go, Anakin."

"Wait," Obi-Wan said quickly. "Please, stay if you can. Anakin and I were just looking for you. I came to your quarters to ask you to come meet my new Padawan."

Did Qui-Gon look pleased? It was always so hard to tell with him, but Obi-Wan thought he did. He felt himself relax a fraction. "But it looks like you've already met him," he added.

"Yes, we've just been getting acquainted. Congratulations, to both of you."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, putting his hand on Ivan's shoulder.

"Anakin, this is Ivan Bal-Tova," Qui-Gon said. "Ivan, Anakin Skywalker." The boys shook hands and exchanged "nice-to-meet-you's."

"Well, is everybody hungry?" Ivan said. "It only takes a few minutes to cook these." He shook the dead crabs still clutched in his left hand. He didn't wait for an answer, but walked over to the fire, dropped them into the pot of boiling water, and began rearranging the crates to serve as seats for the four of them.

A short while later, they were all sitting in a circle enjoying freshly boiled crab, soft doughy pallies, and good conversation. Ivan was openly envious that despite being two years younger than him, Anakin had already been on a mission, whereas Anakin was in awe of the fact that Ivan had already been permitted to build his own lightsaber. The two of them kept up a steady stream of chatter, and after they were done eating Ivan took Anakin over to the open hatch to show him where the divers caught the crabs, leaving Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sitting by the fire.

"He's a likable boy," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan.

"He is that," Obi-Wan agreed. "He certainly is talkative. I don't think he stopped for breath the whole way back from Ilum."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I remember you went through a phase like that."

"What? I never did!"

"Not true," Qui-Gon said serenely.

"When I was his age, I barely said five words to you at a time, unless you started the conversation first," Obi-Wan objected. "I was too-" He hesitated, and then shrugged, and finished. "-too intimidated."

"Well, by the time you were 15 or 16, you apparently got over that."

"I don't think it's a phase for Ivan," Obi-Wan said with a sigh. "It's just his personality."

"I hope the training is going well so far?"

"It hasn't really started in earnest yet," Obi-Wan said. "We'll be briefed on our first mission together in the morning. And what about Anakin?"

Before answering, Qui-Gon glanced over at the boys, and suddenly he smiled. "Look at that," he said to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked over and smiled too. Ivan and Anakin were standing with their heads close together, one dark and one fair, with Ivan half a head taller, showing Anakin how the Huwen sling worked.

"Want to give it a try?" they heard Ivan ask Anakin.

"Um... I don't really swim very well," Anakin admitted reluctantly.

"Oh," Ivan said. "I guess there aren't any swimmable places on Tatooine, huh? Well, we should come back sometime, after you've learned how to swim, and I can teach you how to hunt. It's really fun, I bet you would like it."

"Anakin hasn't made many friends at the Temple," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan in an undertone. "The others his age all grew up together and don't know how to include someone new. And," he added, "they don't understand him. I can't say I always do, either."

"And no wonder. He had an upbringing unlike anyone else at the Temple," Obi-Wan said. "He is unique. Qui-Gon, there's something I've never understood. If it was the will of the Force that he be trained as a Jedi, why could it not bring him to us when he was much younger, so he could learn the ways of the Force from infancy? Why permit him to languish in slavery during some of his most formative years?"

"It's something I've given a great deal of thought to," Qui-Gon said. "I don't have any answers, only guesses. Perhaps it is his experiences as an outsider to the Order that will give him the unique perspective needed to fulfill his destiny and bring balance to the Force."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask Qui-Gon for clarification, but suddenly a shrill whistle pierced the air.

The divers around them paused in what they were doing - for a split second. Then abruptly everyone exploded into action, kicking out their fires, snatching up their belongings, tripping all over each other, and shouting out foul curses with a total disregard for the young Padawans scrambling through the crowd to get to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. A few moments later, the lookout they'd passed at the entrance to the culvert burst onto the scene, his whistle bouncing on his chest as he ran.

"Get moving, everybody!" he screamed. "I resealed the grate, but it won't hold 'em for long!"

"What is it?" Anakin backed up against Qui-Gon to avoid getting trampled by a panic-stricken Quarren. "What's going on?"

"We're about to be arrested by the Coruscant Security Force," Qui-Gon said coolly. He kicked their cooking pot over, sending a wave of hot water spilling over the duracrete.

"The CSF?" Obi-Wan said, startled. "Why, what have we done wrong?"

"Well, the thing is, Master, we're sort of..." Ivan trailed off uncertainly.

"-trespassing on government property," Qui-Gon finished smoothly. He began kicking out their fire.

"_What_? I thought you said CorWa _let_ people in, to reduce the population of crabs!"

Ivan ducked through the stampeding beings toward the pile of crates and began stuffing his Huwen sling carelessly into his net sack while Obi-Wan watched with astonishment.

"CorWa's method of reducing the population is to net the crabs all at once, dump them out in the sun, and leave them to die long, slow deaths, just because they don't like dealing with the hassle of having divers all over their property," Qui-Gon said flatly. "I would much rather the crabs die this way, wouldn't you?"

"Well, fine then, but apparently CSF doesn't agree!"

"In that case, I suggest we leave before they start debating the issue with us," Qui-Gon replied. Ivan had returned by now, net sack full of clothing slung across his back.

"Leave how?" Anakin demanded. They were surrounded by the sheer walls of other buildings, stretching up higher than they could even Force-leap, and there were no exits other than the culvert through which the security officers would be coming.

"Through the plumbing," Ivan said, pointing. Sure enough, several of the other trespassers had the same idea and were already disappearing down into the hatch. "If we swim left instead of right, we should be able to come up through one of the service hatches farther up the line."

"This is ridiculous," Obi-Wan said.

"Yeah, why should we have to run from them?" Anakin demanded. "We're Jedi, they're just local security! We don't have to explain ourselves to them!"

"This is their jurisdiction, Anakin," Qui-Gon explained quickly, ushering his Padawan toward the pipe. "Relations between CSF and the Order are often strained. They get touchy whenever they think we're interfering in their duties. It's better to avoid confrontation when possible."

Qui-Gon leaped up to the top of the pipe, followed by Ivan and then by Obi-Wan.

"But I can't swim!" Anakin protested, still standing down on the ground and looking thoroughly miserable.

"Just hang on to my belt, and I'll do the swimming," Qui-Gon said. At that moment, security officers burst out of the culvert and started firing stun bolts. Panic ensued among the trespassers still remaining. "Quickly!" Qui-Gon called, and Anakin leaped up as Obi-Wan and Ivan fitted their rebreathers in their mouths and dived down into the hatch.

It was difficult to see in the water, as it was churned up by all the beings fighting to fit through the pipe leading away from CorWa, but after a few moments Obi-Wan was able to locate Ivan and follow him to the left. He glanced back and saw Qui-Gon following close behind him through the press of bodies, with Anakin clinging to his belt with one hand and trying to clumsily propel himself forward with the other.

After 300 meters or so, the large pipe branched off into four smaller ones. Ivan took the far right one without hesitation. Obi-Wan disliked tight spaces, but at least now the pipe was not so crowded; many of the other divers had chosen the other three branches. They swam on in silence, Obi-Wan glancing back every now and then to make sure Qui-Gon and Anakin were still behind him.

After several minutes, Ivan stopped swimming and reached up to lift open a hatch on the ceiling of the pipe that led into a dry vertical tunnel with a ladder going up the side. Ivan climbed up to the top of the ladder, leaving just enough room for Obi-Wan to climb up out of the water underneath him. Below, Qui-Gon and Anakin treaded water with their heads just above the surface.

Ivan took his rebreather out of this mouth and grinned down at Obi-Wan. "This should open up into Fellowship Plaza, Master," he said with satisfaction. He reached up, unlatched the hatch and popped it open. A rush of cool air swept down over them, and Obi-Wan could see the darkening traffic-choked sky high above them. "Piece of sweetcake!"

Ivan had hardly stuck his head up out of the hatch when they heard a rough voice outside yell: "Over there! There's another one! Move it!"

"Kriff it!" Ivan hissed, frantically backing down and slamming the hatch shut again. "It's the CSF!" As he spoke, the hatch was yanked open again.

Qui-Gon and Anakin ducked back underwater and got out of the way just in time for Obi-Wan and Ivan to half jump, half fall back into the water. The last thing Obi-Wan saw before ducking underwater was a uniformed CSF officer shining a light down at him.

Underwater again, Obi-Wan was now following the other three further down the line. _This is madness,_ he thought. Even CSF officers were smart enough to think of running to the next hatch in time to catch them there.

The others apparently had thought of that too, because when he surfaced at the next service hatch no one had climbed the ladder, but they were all were treading water, trying to figure out what to do next. Obi-Wan quickly filled them in on the plan he'd come up with.

"It had better be you," Qui-Gon said. "You're the fastest swimmer."

"Fine. I'll catch up with you." Obi-Wan popped the rebreather back into his mouth and dived back under, swimming with quick strong strokes down the line to yet another service hatch. He popped the hatch open, making sure the lid clattered loudly against the duracrete, and stuck his head out. Sure enough, a short way across the plaza there were officers clustered around the second service hatch they'd stopped at, waiting for someone to emerge, but the noise he'd made attracted their attention and in moments, they were racing toward him. Obi-Wan rapidly slammed the hatch shut again, jumped down into the water and began swimming back the way he'd come from. He didn't stop at the second hatch, but continued on to the first hatch they'd emerged from.

The hatch was already open, and when Obi-Wan poked his head up cautiously he saw no sign of any officers, or the other Jedi. Good. They'd made it. As silently as possible, he lifted himself out of the hole, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the beings passing by. He started to melt away into the crowd, his sodden boots squishing loudly as he walked, but luck was not with him. He hadn't gotten far when an officer stationed on top of the wall surrounding the plaza spotted him.

"Hey!" he yelled, waving at his peers in the plaza to get their attention and then pointing at Obi-Wan. "There he is!"

"Which one?" another officer shouted back, frantically scanning the crowd.

As Obi-Wan broke into a run, he heard the first one shout: "The one that's dripping wet, you gundark!"

There were several officers in hot pursuit now, and Obi-Wan couldn't run at full speed without bowling over all the people milling around the plaza and going in and out of the restaurants, night clubs and hotels lining its perimeter. Obi-Wan threaded his way through a group of young people doing tricks on hoverboards and turned a sharp right around a water fountain.

Suddenly, he heard Qui-Gon's voice shouting from nearby: "Over here! Left! He went left, toward The Splendor!" At the same moment, Ivan darted out from behind a potted tree and grabbed Obi-Wan, pulling him out of sight. As Obi-Wan fought to catch his breath, Ivan carefully peeked around the tree.

"It worked! They're all heading for The Splendor!" he whispered.

They waited a few more moments to be sure, and then they slipped away from the tree and began to walk casually toward the Processional Way leading to the Temple. They reached the bottom steps of the Temple just as Anakin and Qui-Gon did.

Anakin shook his body all over like an akk dog, spraying water everywhere, and then threw himself down on the lower steps by Ivan, where both boys dissolved into uncontrollable mirth.

"That was… completely... _ferocious_!" Anakin managed to say through his laughter.

"Yeah, ferocious!" Ivan gasped, slapping Anakin's back.

"It was not ferocious, Padawan, it was illegal!" Obi-Wan objected. "If we'd been caught, can you imagine trying to explain to the Council what we were doing?"

Anakin and Ivan stopped to think about it for a moment. Then they started laughing again. This time, even Qui-Gon joined in.

"You three are going to be the death of me," Obi-Wan said in an exasperated tone, but he couldn't stop the smile that was creeping onto his face.

It was a long, cold walk through the echoing Temple corridors in their dripping wet clothes, but none of them minded.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

****_Author's note:_ Feedback is very welcome!


	15. Chapter 14

****_Author's note:_ Apologies for the lateness of the update. I had a battle with DRL, but eventually emerged triumphant. :-D This week I'll dispense with responding to comments so I can get this out, but I'll resume for my next update.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

In the darkness of his meditation chamber, Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, brooded in solitude.

Sidious was no stranger to the Sith art of probing the future; his own master had acknowledged it was one of his greatest gifts. He often retreated to this place of silence so that he could be free to remove the mask that hid his true face from the galaxy, and drift in the darkest currents of the Force, looking ahead to the events that were to come.

Using the Force to look ahead was not difficult; even the limited Jedi could do so on occasion. But Sidious knew seeing the future was not enough; one also had to know how to _act_ to ensure visions of a desirable future came true, or how to prevent an undesirable event. For several years now, Sidious had seen a future that pleased him very much: the fruition of all his plans, embodied in the Jedi now known as Anakin Skywalker, who might one day bear a different name and a darker visage.

The visions showed him Skywalker as the key to victory or defeat for the forces of the Republic in the war Sidious was now manufacturing. In the end, Skywalker would stand alone at the fulcrum, a hero with no fear, the sole hope for the Republic, burgeoning with power but uncertain how to wield it. With the proper preparations – and Sidious had already put them into motion – in the end the slightest push could send Skywalker over the edge.

_And under my control_.

He knew Skywalker also had the potential to undo all the long centuries of plans, to become a blindingly bright pillar of light that could send the Order of the Sith down to utter destruction once and for all, but that only strengthened the Sith Lord's resolve to seduce Skywalker to the Dark Side of the Force. Long experience told him that the best way to defeat an enemy is not to destroy him, but to subjugate him. One does not waste good material.

But recently, very recently, this glorious vision of victory had become muddied. Something was changing it, and as the altered vision slowly became more clear, future events were taking a shape that did not please Sidious quite so well. Of all the possible futures that could come to pass, more and more of them no longer showed Anakin Skywalker alone at the fulcrum.

Many of them now showed a time when all the hopes of the Republic rested on the shoulders of _two_ men, when the words on the lips of those who prayed for democracy were not "Anakin Skywalker," but "Kenobi and Skywalker." An unstoppable duo that would face the most powerful forces the Separatists would have at their disposal, and yet never meet their match.

Such a turn of events would not have concerned Sidious overmuch - after all, it mattered not a whit whether the Republic or the Separatists won the war, since this would only determine whether it would be "Palpatine" or "Sidious" who became Emperor – but for one crucial change to the vision. Skywalker was no longer so unstable. No longer did he operate isolated from the Order, friendless, Masterless and ripe for a betrayal.

Skywalker would still be hungry for control, Sidious comforted himself, and would still chafe at the restrictions the Jedi put upon him. He would still have weaknesses to exploit. But now he would have a trusted friend within the Order to guide him, and this would complicate his seduction to the Dark Side.

Kenobi himself was nothing to worry about, Sidious knew. His connection to the Force was too weak, his potential too dim, his fighting style too amateur to permit him to become a real threat. In no possible future did Obi-Wan Kenobi even engage Sidious in a fight, much less have a prayer of defeating him, unlike some visions regarding Yoda and Mace Windu that had given Sidious a few sleepless nights. Still, he admitted he had underestimated Kenobi somewhat. Perhaps his victory over Darth Maul had not been entirely due to luck.

In any case, it was clear that Kenobi, in addition to Skywalker, now warranted his personal scrutiny. Once he understood both Kenobi and Skywalker, and the ties that bound them together, he would see his way clear to undo them.

When the time was right.

Darth Sidious was nothing if not patient.

* * *

><p>"Wow," Ivan breathed, unsnapping his safety harness and jumping out of his seat the moment they exited hyperspace. He leaned in so close to the cockpit's main viewport that his breath fogged up the transparisteel. "Look, Master! It's absolutely beautiful!"<p>

Frowning, Obi-Wan tried to spare a moment of his attention on the controls to glance up. The space they had emerged from was startlingly empty; no stars were to be seen, only clusters of thin blue tendrils of ionizing gas in the distance forming a handful of flower-like shapes with centers of inky black. The centers were, in fact, black holes; a whole cluster of them inhabited this sector, creating one of the most treacherous stretches of space known in the galaxy.

"I suppose it would be beautiful, if I didn't know what I was looking at," Obi-Wan admitted.

"They should call it something other than 'the Maw,'" Ivan said, still transfixed by the sight. "Something to match what it looks like."

"I don't know, I think 'the Maw' is rather apropos," Obi-Wan said drily. "I know I certainly feel like we're about to fly into the mouth of some ravenous beast." He looked nervously at the schematics in front of him; the conflicting gravitational pulls of the black holes were already making the ship drift in an unpredictable direction. "Padawan, please sit down and put the safety harness back on. We're a long way from safe just yet."

Ivan reluctantly settled back into the co-pilot's seat and switched on the navicomputer on his console. "This place looks a bit different from the navigational maps we got from the Archives," he said after a few minutes' study. "The map must be outdated."

"Don't tell Master Jocasta Nu that, whatever you do," Obi-Wan said. "She lives under the delusion that if something doesn't exist in her Archives, it doesn't exist at all. You know how to adjust our route to compensate?"

"Yep." Ivan began inputting information as Obi-Wan activated the sublight engines, suppressing a silent sigh as he did so. He enjoyed traveling to different worlds and meeting new types of beings, he really did, but the traveling itself was usually quite tedious, and occasionally downright dangerous. Unfortunately, it appeared this journey would be the latter.

_I can't believe pilots who aren't Force-sensitive dare fly this route,_ Obi-Wan thought incredulously. He wasn't entirely confident in his _own _ability to navigate the Kessel Run safely, even with the advantage the Force gave him of sensing disturbances in gravitational pull before they happened. And the Maw was only the first stage of the journey.

"Hey, Master, look at this," Ivan said. "The information we had on the Kessel Run said most ships travel about 18 parsecs to get from here to Kessel, right?"

"Yes. And we should be able to shave it down to 14 or 15 parsecs by skirting a bit closer to those black holes. If we manage to survive that, it should impress the administrators of the spice mines enough to hire us as smugglers."

"I think we can actually shave it down even more," Ivan said excitedly. "Look at this route I've mapped. It's only _12_ parsecs! Maybe even a little less!"

"That might be cutting it a bit too close for comfort." Obi-Wan looked at the route dubiously, and his eyes widened as he saw just how close it would take them to those beautiful, deadly black holes. "Theoretically it might be possible, Vanya, but let's stick with the route we've got," he said, shaking his head. "You'd have to be a very special kind of crazy to make the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs. Or desperate. Possibly both."

Disappointed, Ivan selected their original route on the navicomputer and slumped back in his chair. Obi-Wan pressed the control to activate the autonav, and took his hands off the controls. Under ordinary circumstances, a pilot could take a rest or even leave the cockpit, trusting the autonav to fly them safely to their destination, but in space this treacherous, Obi-Wan knew he had to stay alert. A machine was no replacement for a warm body in the pilot's chair.

"Try to relax and rest a bit," he told Ivan. "I'm going to need your help once we get to The Pit."

The hours slipped by slowly. Ivan tried to stay awake at first, but eventually even he ran out of things to talk about and succumbed first to silence, then to sleep. Obi-Wan grinned a bit to see his Padawan strapped in the co-pilot's chair, his head lolling to the side and his face serene in sleep. It had been nice to be Qui-Gon's apprentice, to be the one who could relax, knowing someone wiser was nearby watching over him, keeping him safe, but Obi-Wan was finding it was also pleasant to be the one doing the watching.

_I could get used to this,_ he thought, smiling to himself.

But eventually, his smile faded as his thoughts turned to the mission that lay ahead of them. The glitterstim spice mines of Kessel were rumored to be under new ownership, and though none of the Order's contacts knew who the owners were, it was becoming apparent that production had greatly increased since the transfer had taken place. It was also becoming apparent that the additional spice was being sold on the black market, not through legitimate channels.

_You must discover who these new owners are, and negotiate with them to restore law and order to the spice trade_, Mace Windu had told them._ You will pose as smugglers and attempt to arrange a meeting with the mine's owners. Run a few spice shipments first if you need to, in order to build trust. Do not reveal your identities as Jedi unless you first consult with the Council._

_Master, is there any truth to the rumors of a link between the illegal spice trade and the slave market?_ Obi-Wan had asked.

_Evidence of this, we have recently obtained,_ Yoda had responded. _But complex, the relationship appears to be. If identify the owners of the Kessel mines, we do, more clear the link may become. _

It was with a heavy heart that Obi-Wan had accepted the assignment. The last time he'd heard from Siri, she had been en route to Kessel too, only she and Adi were tasked with investigating slaver activity in the area. Something had gone wrong. What? Adi had never told him. Only that Siri had left the Order, and in the months since Obi-Wan had never heard one word from her, no news on where she was now or what she was doing, or if she was happy doing it.

It shouldn't matter to him. Years ago Siri had insisted they be comrades only, not friends, and now they were not even comrades. But her fate _did_ matter to him, and Obi-Wan could not deny it even to himself.

* * *

><p>On the face of things, they were through the worst of the Kessel Run when at last they passed through the Maw and entered the Pit. No doubt that was what many pilots thought just before their ships were smashed to pieces by asteroids.<p>

It was easy to be complacent flying through an asteroid field after a journey through the Maw. After all, it was possible for a ship to emerge intact from an asteroid collision or two if it had decent shields and a stout hull, whereas anyone sucked into a black hole would never be seen again. Many pilots, exhausted from the tension of flying through the Maw, had met their ends here; Obi-Wan could see ship debris floating among the asteroids as he threaded his way through the Pit. Beside him, Ivan was now wide awake as he used the ship's laser beam to vaporize any asteroids Obi-Wan was unable to avoid.

"Careful not to hit any of the ship debris," he warned Ivan quietly. "Some of them could still be carrying fuel."

Ivan didn't answer, and without turning his head to see, Obi-Wan could sense his Padawan's tension. This was the first time Ivan had performed a task in which life was on the line. He had been trained to handle dangerous piloting scenarios on simulators, of course, but simulators could not create the throat-tightening fear that real danger tended to awaken in a young boy. Obi-Wan remembered all too well what that was like.

Tentatively, Obi-Wan opened himself up not only to the Force itself but also to the faint ripples being cast by Ivan as he operated the laser beam. He tried to nudge the Force in such a way that it would flow back and forth through Ivan and himself, to help them coordinate their movements as they navigated the asteroid field, and he thought he felt Ivan hesitantly trying to do the same. A Master-Padawan bond couldn't be created all in one day, but Obi-Wan knew that a series of small steps such as this one would one day be forged into a full-blown Force-bond, in which he and Ivan would be able to anticipate one another's actions, even detect each other's pain or distress from across great distances.

It felt strange, foreign, to open himself up in this way to a boy whom he had known less than a year. Force-bonding was a rare occurrence, usually forming only between Masters and Padawans . His connection with Qui-Gon had built slowly, but by the end of his apprenticeship he had been able to sense with great accuracy what his Master would do next – even if he often hadn't understood _why_ Qui-Gon did what he did.

Working together, he and Ivan at last managed to clear the asteroid field, and it wasn't long before they came within sight of Kessel, which resembled a misshapen brown rock spinning in space, and its verdant green sister-planet known as Little Kessel. Kessel itself was home to the glitterstim spice mines, where energy spiders spun webs that were later processed into various forms of spice. Little Kessel was headquarters for the mine administrators, since it had by far a more hospitable environment.

Obi-Wan adjusted their course to approach Little Kessel's main spaceport. A few moments later, they received a transmission from the port authority requesting they identify themselves and their ship. Obi-Wan gave them the pertinent information, and they were given permission to land.

"Want to take her down?" Obi-Wan asked Ivan, pushing himself away from the pilot's console.

"Um… I guess so," Ivan said. They switched seats, and Ivan began to make the descent to the planet's surface.

"Master?" he said nervously. "Maybe this would be a good time to tell you that flying isn't really… my thing."

"Then this is a good chance for you to get some practice," Obi-Wan said. "Watch your pitch. Not so steep."

"Where are the reverse thrusters?" Ivan asked, frantically scanning the console.

"To your left. The red levers. The red- yes, those. Don't use them yet. Level out a bit first. More than that. More. There, stop right there."

"Now reverse thrust?"

"Yes. No, don't use half-power. Reverse full blast. There you go."

The ship was slowing down now, shuddering as it fought the friction of the atmosphere. Ivan sat rigidly at the controls, sweat beaded on his brow.

"Not so steep, Ivan."

"Sorry, Master."

"You're doing fine." The clouds in front of them began to thin, and a voice crackled out from the comm station again, telling them to land on the east landing field.

"Which way's east?" Ivan asked.

"Starboard side." A pause. "Starboard is to the right."

"I know that! I think the wind's blowing us or something."

"We're too heavy to blow in the wind. You're coming in too steep again; pull up."

They were low enough now to make out dots on the field that were mechanics working on ships already on the ground. The voice instructed them to land in the southeast corner. Ivan swung around to make the landing, giving the observation tower an unnecessarily wide berth. He made a beautifully seamless transition from thrusters to hover jets, bringing them neatly in line with the lighted landing strips below.

"Well done," Obi-Wan said, trying to keep a tone of surprise out of his voice. Ivan smiled, relaxed visibly, and reached for the white button at the top of the console.

"No, don't turn off the hover jets until…!"

Too late. With the ship still six feet off the ground, Ivan deactivated them.

Obi-Wan felt his stomach leap into his throat as the ship abruptly fell straight down and hit the ground with a resounding _crunch_.

A long, uncomfortable silence filled the cockpit. Ivan buried his face in his hands and remained motionless.

Obi-Wan reached over and switched off the engines. Far from being angry, to his own horror, he was fighting very hard not to laugh. He was remembering one of his earliest missions from Qui-Gon, when he had made a similar hair-raising landing that had ended with him clipping one of the wings against a rock wall. He had been terrified of Qui-Gon's reaction, but much to his surprise his Master had good-naturedly shrugged off the incident.

"Vanya, look at me," Obi-Wan said.

Timidly, his Padawan lowered his hands and met his eyes. "Sorry, Master," he whispered.

"We're still all in one piece," Obi-Wan said gently. "It wasn't so bad. We'll work on it. Next time you'll do better."

"Yes, but is the _ship_ still in one piece?"

"Well, let's go take a look." Obi-Wan unstrapped himself and exited the cockpit, heading to the back of the ship to lower the disembarking ramp. Ivan slowly followed him, and together they bent over and looked under the ship.

The landing struts were crumpled like accordions, but none of them had snapped off. Obi-Wan breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"This isn't worth a scolding, Vanya," Obi-Wan said quietly, resting a hand on his Padawan's shoulder. But still Ivan kept his head down, his cheeks flushed with shame. The boy had a problem with pride, Obi-Wan realized. They'd have to work on that, too.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that a man in a navy blue uniform was approaching them. Obi-Wan smoothed the wrinkles in his dark green trousers and instinctively touched his belt to make sure his lightsaber was in place, which it wasn't. He had it concealed in the sleeve on his nerf-leather jacket; the only weapon he wore openly was a blaster slung in a leg holster. Obi-Wan hoped vehemently he would not have to use the blaster during the mission. He was a reasonably good shot, but he disliked using blasters intensely and had since he had first held one as a young boy in combat training at the Temple. They felt awkward in his hand. Not like his lightsaber. And blasters were so uncivilized. It was too tempting to simply shoot one's way out of a tight situation, whereas if you only carried a short-range weapon, you were more motivated to use persuasion or stealth to accomplish your goals, and therefore less blood was spilled.

"What brings you to our port?" the uniformed man asked Obi-Wan without preamble.

"Well, I've got a ship with plenty of cargo space and I'm hoping to find work taking shipments of goods out of the system," Obi-Wan said neutrally.

He saw that the port administrator understood perfectly; spice was the Kessel system's only export, and if Obi-Wan had been looking to serve as a legitimate spice trader, he wouldn't have come via the Kessel Run so as to avoid a run-in with the armed ships that guarded the hyperspace lanes to the system. He wondered again how the Order had obtained the navigational maps that had guided them through the Maw; neither the Council nor Master Nu had said.

The man took payment for their use of the landing field, then murmured quietly to them: "It's Patin you need to see." Briefly he explained how to find their contact, and they were on their way.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	16. Chapter 15

**obi kenobi:** Please don't pout! I finally caught up and am now responding to both this week's comments and last week's. Anakin definitely needs some real friends. I always imagined that the other Jedi students wouldn't quite know what to make of him: Prodigiously talented, but clueless when it comes to Jedi ethics and traditions.

What happens to Qui-Gon and Ivan? I won't say, but you can see that for whatever reason, Sidious is currently not worried about either one of them ruining his plans. However, the future is in motion - and he's still underestimating Obi-Wan, to boot.

In my fic, Obi-Wan hasn't grown the beard yet, if that encourages you at all. :-D

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi:** Chase scenes are as much fun to write as they are to watch/read!

Happy to have educated you about the Kessel Run. I don't expect even fanatic Star Wars fanatics to know every detail - I certainly don't. That's why Wookieepedia is my friend! It was fun to do a little homage to Han Solo.

**Geri K:** Well, between Qui-Gon, Anakin and Ivan, Obi-Wan is now surrounded by rule-breakers. It'll be good for him. :-)

**Laerwen Morfinnel**: I find that even as a adult, I catch myself wanting to keep up appearances in front of my parents, so I know how Obi-Wan feels when he meets Qui-Gon again!

Dang that Sidious. He just loves to spoil everything. And I admit I was hoping the "Kenobi and Skywalker" reference would make everyone go, "what?" In a good way, that is. Hopefully I succeeded. :-P

So you think they're going to bump into Siri? That would be interesting...

**ejm12**: They do make a great team/family! Expect them to have more adventures together in the chapters to come.

**AndrossKenobi:** "I would have liked a little more insight into the catchup between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon." You may be right about this. I have a tendency to hold back on big emotional scenes. I think I have a fear of sounding overly sentimental or something. I shall give this some more thought.

Glad you enjoyed the chase!

**bluedragon1836**: Thank you! It was a lot of fun.

**My Flawed Design**: Gracias!

**Katerinaki**: I see your point. Qui-Gon, Anakin and Obi-Wan all have very unique qualities and personalities, plus we all know they are destined to do some pretty epic stuff, so it's easy for them to overshadow Ivan. In fact, right now the most distinctive thing about Ivan is... his ordinariness. That's intentional, but you're right, I don't want him to just be a tagalong. He needs to be his own fully-fleshed person. That's a challenge for me, and I'll keep it in mind as I go along.

**Lightsider**: Thank you for your review. I agree that Qui-Gon would be curious about Obi-Wan's withdrawal. Now that he isn't Obi-Wan's master anymore, maybe he feels like he doesn't have the right to pry. But it would be good for both of them to talk about it.

**Andromakhe**: I appreciate your detailed review! It's very helpful to me. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan may not have a training bond anymore, but they are still tied together by their shared experiences, mutual respect and even affection - and now they have the added similarity of being Masters to Padawans about the same age. All that will serve as motivation for them to keep up their friendship.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

Patin Roe, it turned out, was a Toydarian male with a jovial attitude, wings that spun so fast it made Obi-Wan dizzy to look at him, and, incongruously, the twang of the Alsakan dialect evident in his accent. He didn't give a second glance at Ivan who, like many young people apprenticed in any number of trades throughout the galaxy, wore a braid that marked him as a student. Instead, the first question he asked Obi-Wan was: "Is yer ship fast?"

"Fast enough. She'll make point-3 past lightspeed."

"What about the Run? D'yeh have the guts to take a shortcut if you should happen to get the fuzz on your tail?"

"We made it through in 14.8 parsecs, on the way here."

Patin whistled between his teeth. "Not bad. I'll have to check yer ship's instruments to verify, but if yer tellin' the truth, that's nearly as good as Zora's first run."

"Zora?"

"Smuggler. Like you. Did a few runs 'bout a year back, but she's moved on to bigger an' better things now. Last I heard, she was Krayn's right hand man. So to speak."

Obi-Wan had heard of Krayn. He was a big-time slave trader who had been eluding authorities for decades now. It was suspected, though not proven, that Krayn not only bought and sold existing slaves for a profit, but also conducted raids throughout the Outer Rim Territories in which he abducted free beings and sold them into slavery. But he was here for spice, not slaves.

"Well, I've got 70 metric tons of cargo space and I'm ready to take a shipment whenever you are," Obi-Wan said.

"Not so fast," Patin said. "Who've yeh got to speak for yeh?"

"Speak for me?"

"Yeh haven't done business with us before. Yeh got to have someone to vouch for yeh, someone the mine owners know and trust. Someone who knows yeh won't drop yer shipment at the first sign of trouble."

"That won't be necessary," Obi-Wan said coolly, using a bit of subtle Force persuasion.

Patin stared at him, his wings buzzing rapidly to keep him aloft. "'Fraid it is," he said at last, shrugging. "The mine's under new ownership, see, and they're a bit… antsy. The fuzz are on to their game, see, and they won't do business with nobody unless they've got proof yeh aren't some kind of fuzz yerself, yeh know? There's been some trouble."

"I see," Obi-Wan said, thinking fast. "Perhaps if I could meet with the owners, I could persuade them otherwise. If you were to arrange a meeting, it would be most… profitable for you."

"The owners see no one," Patin said flatly, ignoring the hint. He rose smoothly into the air, ushering Obi-Wan and Ivan toward the door. "No reference, no job!"

"Well, that was a short mission," Ivan said when they were standing in the street, staring glumly at the door that had just closed in their faces.

"We're not giving up yet," Obi-Wan said grimly. "Come on."

* * *

><p>Ten days later, Obi-Wan was beginning to lose patience. They spent their days in the seedy little spaceport and various smoky cantinas, trying to convince or bribe other smugglers to vouch for them, but apparently the new mine owners weren't the only ones who were "antsy." Obi-Wan even offered to join other smugglers' crews on a run without pay in return for a reference when they returned, but none of the smugglers were interested. They got a tidy enough profit from the recent glut of jobs available that no one was desperate enough to take a chance on an untried crewmember.<p>

Siri constantly hovered in the edge of Obi-Wan's thoughts. She would have known what to do in this situation. She had always been better at the cloak-and-dagger game than him. Obi-Wan preferred straightforwardness. He suspected the Council had chosen him for this mission for his negotiation skills, if only he could first identify the owners and verify they were beings who could be reasoned with. He felt confident he could persuade them to ease back on the smuggling and return the spice trade to a legitimate business, if only he could gain access to them…

As usual, they were spending the morning at the spaceport, watching for the arrival of new smugglers. Ivan was staring intently at their dejarik board trying to figure out his next move.

Grinning suddenly, he sat up straight and pressed a control. His holographic Mantellian Savrip piece lumbered forward, casually picked up Obi-Wan's M'onnock piece and tore its head off in its powerful jaws.

Obi-Wan lifted one eyebrow and pressed the control to move his K'lor'slug piece diagonally. The holo-monster swung a massive arm and Ivan's Savrip piece crumpled to the ground.

Ivan sat back and sighed dramatically. "Master, can't you let me win, just once?"

"How would you learn, if I did that?"

Ivan smiled wanly at Obi-Wan, but then his eyes flicked upward, to something behind Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan turned a bit in his seat, and saw a tall, middle-aged woman standing behind him, wearing a white shirt, tan vest and pants, and an ear-to-ear grin.

"Janri!" Obi-Wan said, startled.

"Hey, kid!" she said, ruffling Obi-Wan's hair. "I thought you'd been sent to a prison world!"

"I... thought you were, too," Obi-Wan said, trying to hide his dismay. He was the one who had sent her there, for bribing planetary leaders to look the other way as she facilitated illegal shipments of spice, although at his request she had been kept ignorant of the part he had played in her arrest.

"It's entirely possible I may have scarpered," Janri said with a wink. "You did too, eh? I don't suppose you've caught up with anyone else from our crew?"

"No, I haven't."

Janri smile faded. "I don't even know where some of them were taken."

"Please," Obi-Wan said, standing up and pulling another chair over. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you. What's with the kid?" Janri asked, nodding toward Ivan as she sat down.

"This is my youngest brother, Ivan," Obi-Wan said smoothly.

"Ah yes, I remember you said you had a big family," Janri said as she shook Ivan's hand.

"Ivan, this is Janri," Obi-Wan continued. "I used to be on her crew, helping smuggle spice onto Czurtan." He casually tucked a lock of hair behind his left ear, a signal for Ivan to keep as quiet as possible lest he give anything away by mistake, and he saw that Ivan understood.

"_Used_ to be on my crew?" Janri retorted. "Still are, as far as I'm concerned. Although I no longer have a ship, which cramps our style a bit. I had to catch a transport here."

"What's your business here?"

"Well, what do you think?" Janri laughed. "Same as yours, I imagine. I'm hoping to find a crew to join, and once I've earned enough credits to strike out on my own again, I intend to track down everyone from our team, and free them if I can."

"Then you're back to business as usual?" Obi-Wan said cautiously. "Even after what happened on Czurtan?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Janri said. "It's not like anyone would offer me a respectable job now, not with my record. Have you found a place on a ship yet?"

"No," Obi-Wan said. "I actually have a ship of my own, but my contact won't give me a shipment because he doesn't know if I can be trusted with one."

"Who's your contact?"

"Patin Roe."

"So..." Janri said slowly. "I don't have a ship, and you don't have someone to vouch for you. Whatever shall we do?" She grinned mischievously, a dimple popping out in one cheek. "Don't worry, Patin's a pushover," she said confidently. "I've worked with him before. I'll bat my eyes at him and he'll give us a shipment. We could split the profits 50-50. What do you say? Partners?"

At this point, Obi-Wan didn't have any better ideas. "Partners," he agreed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ivan visibly brighten - the boy was itching for action. Obi-Wan suspected he was about to get his wish.

* * *

><p>True to Janri's word, in short order Patin had their ship loaded with raw spice and ready for departure. They were to take it to Nar Shaddaa, known colloquially as the "Smuggler's Moon" due to the proliferation of lawlessness the place attracted, and deliver it to a spice processing factory there. Obi-Wan hoped if their run was speedy enough, it might impress Patin and help him arrange a meeting with the mine owners. With Janri sticking close to him up until their departure from Little Kessel, Obi-Wan never got a chance to send a message to the Council informing them of his destination, but he was confident they would approve. Perhaps he would get a chance to slip away from Janri for a moment once they arrived on Nar Shaddaa.<p>

* * *

><p>"What a dump," Janri said distastefully, as they emerged from their ship and stood on the elevated landing platform, getting their first good look at the sprawling spice processing factory on the southern hemisphere of Nar Shaddaa.<p>

"You can say that again," Ivan said, wrinkling his nose.

Obi-Wan had to agree with them both. The factory was a disorganized cluster of dull gray buildings sprawled across a large swath of land. The narrow spaces between the buildings were cluttered with all sorts of equipment coated with spice residue dust and choked with hundreds of droids and workers operating the machinery and carrying loads to and fro.

Janri, Obi-Wan and Ivan arrived at the main gate and gave their names to the droid guards there, and in a few minutes they were joined by a towering Wookiee wearing nothing but an eyepatch and a wide belt securing a blaster to his waist. His long shaggy fur blew wildly in the exhaust being belched from a nearby vent. He greeted them with a snarling cry peculiar to his species.

Janri looked blankly at Obi-Wan. "Do you understand Shyriiwook?"

"No, do you?"

"No."

"I do," Ivan said from Obi-Wan's elbow. "He said his name is Rashtah and he's been expecting us. We're supposed to follow him."

The Wookiee began leading them through the tangle of workers, who rapidly moved aside to give the Wookiee a wide berth. Now that they were closer, Obi-Wan got a good look at the workers' filthy faces and dull expressions as they trudged past, and he saw with displeasure that all them wore restraining collars, which meant they weren't workers at all, but slaves. On Nar Shaddaa, this didn't entirely surprise him, but it did raise the question of whether the mysterious owners of the Kessel spice mines knew their product was being processed by slaves. If so, they had much to answer for.

The Wookiee led them inside a small building and into a comfortable lounge, much quieter and neater than the chaos outside. A Twi'lek girl, barely into adolescence and wearing a slave collar, brought them refreshments. Obi-Wan took the opportunity to study the Wookiee discretely; the species had fought long and hard to resist enslavement on their own homeworld of Kashyyyk and it was difficult to believe one of them could be so indifferent to the enslavement of others, but Rashtah scarcely gave the girl a second glance.

Rashtah spoke to them again in a musical roar.

"He says he'd like to send some of his slaves to inspect our shipment, and if it's of good quality the manager of the factory will be happy to negotiate a price with us," Ivan said.

"Aren't you the manager?" Obi-Wan asked Rashtah in surprise.

Like most of his species, Rashtah apparently understood Basic perfectly well, even if his anatomy didn't equip him to speak it. He responded to Obi-Wan directly, and Ivan translated: "Krayn is the manager."

Obi-Wan carefully hid his reaction - the infamous slaver himself, running a spice processing factory?

"Rashtah is Krayn's second in command," Ivan continued translating, and Rashtah whuffed out a long chortling laugh.

"What's so funny?" Janri asked.

Rashtah answered Janri directly, and Ivan translated again: "He says that yesterday he was _third_ in command. But then Krayn's favorite, Zora, got herself into some kind of trouble." Rashtah warbled a long speech, and as he finished Obi-Wan felt a sudden jolt of distress coming from Ivan through the Force.

"He says that Krayn caught Zora conspiring with a Jedi spy ," Ivan said, swallowing. "He plans to execute both her and the spy today as a show of strength. He wants to impress some business partners who will be arriving soon." Rashtah laughed again, enjoying the idea enormously.

_A Jedi spy? _Obi-Wan frantically tried to think. Could Krayn be mistaken about the captive being a Jedi? The Council had said nothing to him about sending a Knight to Nar Shaddaa undercover. On the other hand, they hadn't known he intended to come to the Smuggler's Moon.

And if it _were_ true, why would Krayn's own associate be conspiring with a Jedi?

"A Jedi Knight, here?" Janri said sharply, fixing her bright blue gaze on Rashtah. "Your security must not be worth much if you let something like _that_ slip through the cracks!"

"He was just a little Jedi," Ivan translated for Rashtah then, the faintest tremor in his voice. "Not a Knight at all. He didn't even have a lightsaber with him."

Rashtah ordered a battered protocol droid to escort Obi-Wan, Janri and Ivan to nearby guest quarters while he dispatched slaves to unload and inspect their spice load, informing them that Krayn would not be available to meet with them and finalize the sale until tomorrow.

Outwardly, Obi-Wan was feigning interest in the comforts the droid pointed out to them in the guest quarters, but inwardly his mind was going a mile a minute. If Rashtah was correct, there was somewhere in the compound a weaponless Padawan who was scheduled for execution by the end of the day. If that were so, he had a duty to try to rescue the boy.

But he had also been ordered not to reveal his true identity. Springing a purported Jedi spy from prison was likely to blow his cover completely.

Ivan kept casting sidelong looks at Obi-Wan that clearly communicated his impatience to run out and rescue one of his peers, whoever it was. Obi-Wan was wholly sympathetic, but he had to look at the big picture. If they failed in their mission and the black market spice trade continued to thrive, intertwined as it was with the slave trade, the repercussions could be galaxy-wide. Could he risk that for the life of one being, who may or may not actually be a Jedi?

There were too many unknowns. He needed more information, and he wasn't going to get it sitting around the guest quarters.

"If there's anything else you need, press the button by the door and I will wait on you," the protocol droid said with a stiff bow. "Please enjoy your stay." He began to leave.

"Wait," Obi-Wan said. "Tell me, is there a place in the compound where prisoners are kept?"

"There are always slaves in need of punishment, sir," the droid answered willingly. "The overseers take them to the building in the center of the compound. That's Krayn's headquarters. There is an underground prison cell block there, I believe."

"Thank you. That will be all."

When the droid was gone, Janri shot an odd look at Obi-Wan. "What was that all about?"

"I've never seen a Jedi before," Obi-Wan said slowly. Ivan perked up visibly.

"Neither have I, and I'd like to keep it that way," Janri retorted.

"Rashtah said he was just a little one. Aren't you curious?"

"From what I've heard, even little Jedi can be big trouble! I'm not _that_ curious."

"But he's locked up."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Janri was dumbfounded. "And what happens if you get caught snooping around? You know how temperamental Wookiees can be!"

"I won't get caught. You don't have to come. Just stay here, and cover for us if anyone comes looking for us." Obi-Wan opened the door. "Ivan. Let's go."

They had barely reached the end of the corridor when Janri caught up with them.

"Someone has to watch your back, kid," she said with a resigned expression.

Getting inside the prison cell block was easier than Obi-Wan expected. Not long after they'd finished assessing the place, a grav-sled stacked with trays of food arrived and a handful of slaves began unloading it. Thinking quickly, Obi-Wan grabbed a trio of slaves walking by and asked for their worker's smocks. Obviously terrified of displeasing one of Krayn's clients, no matter how odd his request, they agreed without hesitation. A minute later, Janri, Obi-Wan and Ivan were disguised as slaves and descending into the prison cell block carrying trays of food for the prisoners. The guard droids paid them little mind.

"This is insane," Janri muttered under her breath to Obi-Wan as they walked down a dim corridor. "_You_ are insane." Inwardly, Obi-Wan smiled. How many times he had thought the same thing of Qui-Gon each time his Master had impulsively abandoned the Council's instructions in favor of some other less important cause, or so Obi-Wan had always thought.

He hoped he had made the right choice to come here. They'd know soon enough.

The slaves were delivering their trays to the prisoners closest to the entrance, then returning to the grav-sled for another load. Janri and Ivan followed Obi-Wan's lead in nonchalantly walking deeper into the prison cell block, passing dozens of dirty slaves huddled in tiny barred cells. A feared enemy like a Jedi would be locked up as far from the entrance as possible, he guessed.

Eventually, they ended up walking down a long corridor that led them away from the slave prisoners and through a pair of blast-shielded doors. Inside was an anteroom where two guard droids paced in front of a cell whose walls were made of solid durasteel, not bars. The door of the cell was made of transparisteel, but Obi-Wan couldn't see the prisoner inside because a third droid with a high-powered blaster attached to one of its mechanical arms was stationed directly in front of it.

The three of them came to a stop several feet away from the stationary droid, who fixed its glowing red eyes on them and did not move aside. Obi-Wan cleared this throat. "We've brought the prisoner's meal," he said.

The droid said nothing – its makers probably hadn't bothered programming it to speak Basic, since it was a guard droid, not a protocol droid – but after a moment it stepped aside and slid open a slot on the door. Obi-Wan walked up to the door with a tray in hand as the prisoner inside rose to her feet.

She was tall for a woman, about Obi-Wan's height, and dressed in dark leggings and a tunic made of various types of furs, encircled by a metal-studded belt. Her blonde hair was twisted into dreadlocks and pulled back from her face. The cell's dim light glinted off the various ornaments woven into her hair, and Obi-Wan's mind immediately leapt to the repulsive tradition of slavers to collect and wear items from each slave they captured. This could not be the Jedi spy, whom Rashtah had called "he." Obi-Wan guessed she was Krayn's right hand, Zora.

The woman slowly walked across the cell to stand in front of the transparisteel door and looked at Obi-Wan through the slot, wide-eyed. Obi-Wan stared back at her, and in looking closely at her face, nearly dropped the tray of food he was holding.

Not possible. This was not possible. What in the name of the great galactic wheel was _Siri_ doing here?

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_Readers, what do you think? Click on the review button and let me know!_


	17. Chapter 16

**flyingxdragonx123:** Siri is bound to spice things up, Siri being who she is. :)

** AndrossKenobi**: It's going to be tricky!

**obi kenobi**: It's really true! As old Ben Kenobi knows, looking at things from a certain point of view really changes how the truth appears. From Janri's point of view, Obi-Wan's actions would seem rather heartless.

And don't worry, the Forcestone will definitely be making more appearances.

**My Flawed Design**: Your wish is my command.

**Laerwen Morfinnel:** You are positively prescient, my dear. Really, I think all your guesses thus far have been spot-on.

**Jedi Kay-Kenobi**: Yes, and the sooner it clicks, the better, or Siri may never forgive him! By the way, you were my 100th reviewer! W00T! You should get some virtual cookies and Tatooine blue milk for that. :-) Thanks a lot!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

Obi-Wan and Siri stared at each other through the transparisteel door of her prison cell. Obi-Wan could not have been more surprised if he'd found Master Yoda himself here in the filthy dungeons of a spice processing factory on Nar Shaddaa.

He looked at Siri again to make sure it was actually her. He realized that the red marks on her face, which he had taken to be scars, were actually streaks of red paint designed to make her look more fierce. Her appearance was so savage that it was a wonder he had recognized her at all.

"Hey, kid." Janri poked him in the side, jarring him out of his trance. "Drop the tray and let's keep moving," she hissed in an undertone, looking nervously at the guard droids standing nearby.

"Just… just a minute," Obi-Wan said weakly.

"Why, what's wrong?" Janri looked back and forth between Obi-Wan and Siri – or rather, Zora – and suddenly comprehended that they recognized each other. Standing close by, Ivan looked equally mystified at his Master's reaction to the prisoner.

"What is it? Who is she?" Janri whispered.

"She's no Jedi," Obi-Wan said, and he could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. Of all the things he had imagined Siri doing in her post-Jedi career, smuggling slaves had never been one of them. He had never dreamed she could stoop so low.

Janri drew in a soft breath, and there was comprehension in her eyes. "Stars and galaxies – this is her, isn't it?" she whispered. "Your wife."

Zora's eyebrows shot upward, and Obi-Wan felt his face flush, remembering he had told Janri eight months ago that he was married but estranged as part of his cover story.

"No," he said stiffly. "My sister."

"Oh. The runaway."

Their conversation was abruptly cut short when one of the guard droids marched over grimly, took a tray from Obi-Wan's hands and shoved it through the slot, where it would have fallen to the floor if Zora had not caught it nimbly. Then the droid pressed the barrel of its blaster against Obi-Wan's chest and began to push him backwards, out of the anteroom and back into the corridor. The other droids hustled Janri and Ivan out. The last thing Obi-Wan saw as the blast doors slid shut again was Zora's confused face.

He knew exactly how she felt.

The three of them huddled in the corridor together.

"What are you going to do?" Janri whispered. "We can't just leave her there! They're going to execute her!"

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and struggled to control his emotions. He found that he was angry, angry that Siri had turned her back on not only the Order, but also on basic human kindness and decency. He was hurt, terribly hurt, that the good woman he had known and yes, even loved, was gone. And he was afraid to let her die, whether she deserved it or not.

Yet there was another part of him that whispered it could not be true. Perhaps Siri truly _had_ been helping the unknown Jedi infiltrate Krayn's operations here. Perhaps she was still on the right side.

He wanted desperately to believe that. But was it wishful thinking, or a rational hope? Obi-Wan could not be sure.

He felt a warm hand rest lightly on his arm, and at the touch he felt a small wave of compassion wash over him through the Force. Vanya. He clearly had no idea what was happening, but he sensed his Master's distress and wanted to help. Obi-Wan felt a sudden gratitude burn in his chest. He was glad Vanya was here, very glad. Slowly, with Vanya's help, he was able to regain his center and calm his chaotic thinking.

One thing was certain - he could not leave Siri here until he had more answers, but he also could not ask the questions he needed to ask while Janri was present.

"Janri," he said softly. "Will you go back to our ship and get the engines warmed up for a speedy departure?" If they ended up breaking Siri out of the prison, they would have to leave their as-yet-unpaid-for shipment of spice behind, but without hesitation Janri nodded her assent and he knew that just as she had intended to risk all to reclaim her scattered crew, she also understood he could not leave one of his own behind.

Obi-Wan waited until Janri was out of sight and quickly explained the situation to Ivan. Then he slid his hand inside his sleeve and pulled out his lightsaber hilt. His face serious, Ivan did the same, and when they were both ready, they opened the blast door and charged through.

In a single swift movement, Obi-Wan leapt and slashed, slicing one guard droid in half, then lunged forward and stabbed another through the control center in its chest before it could fire a shot. To his left, sizzling pieces of droid were raining down on Ivan as he cut the third one into pieces.

In the sudden silence that followed, Siri leaned casually against the transparisteel door of her cell and said brightly, "Nice work, boys. Obi-Wan, who's your friend?"

"This is Ivan Bal-Tova," Obi-Wan said cautiously. "My... my Padawan."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master?" Siri's lips curved up ever so slightly, which Obi-Wan resented a bit. As though she found the title amusing when it was connected to him. "I'm sorry to have missed _that_ little development," she continued. "Nice to meet you, Ivan." She waved at Ivan through the transparisteel, who shot a hesitant look at Obi-Wan before dipping his head in acknowledgement.

"And have you two found Anakin yet?" Siri added.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan said blankly. "Anakin Skywalker?"

"No, Anakin Starkiller," Siri said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Anakin Skywalker. Aren't you here to rescue him?"

"No. What in the blazes is he doing here? And for that matter, what are _you _doing here?"

Siri looked taken aback. "I'm here to spy on Krayn, of course. Didn't the Council tell you that?"

"Adi told me you left the Order!"

"Well yes, that was the official story, but surely you of all people didn't believe that!"

Obi-Wan said nothing.

"You really _did_ believe it, didn't you?" Siri's tone was incredulous, but then she made an impatient gesture. "You know what? It doesn't matter. We don't have time for this. We'll straighten it all out later. Right now I've got to find Anakin before Krayn executes him."

"How do I know you aren't making all this up just to convince me to help you escape?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Obi-Wan, I haven't asked you for anything." Siri was annoyed. "Run along and do whatever it is you're supposed to do if you want. I have everything under control."

Obi-Wan looked at the cell Siri was still trapped in and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Just then, the three of them heard footsteps coming down the corridor. Quickly, Ivan and Obi-Wan each melted into the dark corners on either side of the blast doors. Obi-Wan pulled up his hood and concentrated on using Force-camouflage, which was nothing more than a variation of the Jedi mind trick that would hopefully make the intruder forget he or she had seen him and Ivan. Of course, it wouldn't do a bit of good if the newcomer was another guard droid.

Obi-Wan suspected he had just made a fool of himself. He could sense no deception from Siri. He was beginning to realize something he should have known from the beginning: she would never betray the Jedi Order.

The blast doors slid open, and a young Twi'lek girl walked into the anteroom with a food tray in her hand. It was the same slave girl that had served them refreshments earlier, Obi-Wan realized. The girl slid the tray through the slot in Siri's prison door, then took off her worker's smock and handed it to Siri as well.

"Thank you, Berri," Siri murmured, pulling the smock over her head so that it hid her distinctive clothing. "And now you'd better get back to the kitchens, quick." The girl spun on her heels and left.

Siri took the cover off the food tray. To Obi-Wan's surprise, there were two lightsabers inside. Siri coolly activated hers and thrust the glowing amethyst blade into the locking mechanism of her cell door. A few moments later, she was free.

She shot a scathing look at Obi-Wan and started to walk past him and through the blast doors, but Obi-Wan stepped in front of her before she could.

"So," he said, trying to sound casual, "what's the plan?"

* * *

><p>Siri directed them to split up and each search one of the prison's three wings for Anakin, then meet at the entrance. Obi-Wan searched the south wing and saw no sign of Anakin. Once he got outside, he saw a gravsled had tipped over just in front of the entrance, and Siri was already there helping a few other slaves pick up all the crates that had spilled onto the dusty ground. He could not see Ivan anywhere and hoped his Padawan had not run into any trouble inside the prison. Their bond was so tenuous that he couldn't be sure he would immediately sense if Ivan was in distress.<p>

Casually, he stooped over and began to help Siri lift crates back onto the gravsled.

"So why _are_ you here?" she asked him in an undertone.

"I was supposed to discover who now owns the spice mines of Kessel."

"And?"

"I got sidetracked."

Siri muttered something under her breath that may have been a curse. "Krayn's been working on something big. He had me help him formulate a contract with Kessel - they supply the spice, and he supplies the slaves and factories to refine it - but for once he refused to let me in on the negotiations. I reported that to the Council, and they decided I shouldn't risk blowing my cover on trying to find out who the owners were. Master Windu said they'd send someone to Kessel to investigate things from that end. I guess it was you."

"But your cover _did_ get blown."

"Yes, well, that was Anakin's doing." Siri actually looked more amused than perturbed, which was not at all the reaction Obi-Wan was expecting. She must have worked very hard over the past year and a half to gain Krayn's trust.

"And what was _Anakin_ doing here?"

Siri dumped a crate onto the gravsled. "I'll give you the short version of the story. I was out conducting raids with Krayn several weeks ago. We attacked a ship so we could poach their fuel and steal their supplies. It was a diplomatic ship, but that never stops Krayn. Anyway, before we could even board them, somehow one of their little maintenance shuttles boarded _us_ first and the intruders managed to disable our weapons. Krayn and Rashtah and I ran down to the hangar bay to catch them before they escaped.

"I got there first and who do you think I saw? _Qui-Gon_. He was already in their transport with the engines running and Anakin was standing just outside the hatch. It looked like they were arguing about something." Siri sighed. "I was just going to let them go, but just then Krayn and Rashtah ran in and started shooting. Rashtah had a shoulder-mounted cannon and he hit the deck right in front of the little transport. The blast blew the ship right through the security screens and out into space."

"But Qui-Gon was still inside-" Obi-Wan began, alarmed.

"Don't worry," Siri said quickly. "The hull didn't breach, and the hatch closed automatically as soon as it detected vacuum. I'm sure Qui-Gon was fine. The problem was Anakin, who got left behind. Instead of doing something intelligent, like running to one of the other transports in the hangar, he decided to run straight at Krayn. I thought Anakin was going to kill him - I could sense he was about to draw his lightsaber."

Siri fell silent for a moment, and shook her head slowly. "I didn't have time to think. I just did the first thing that popped into my head. I stepped between Anakin and Krayn so that Krayn couldn't shoot him. I... hit Anakin. Knocked him down and pinned him. Grabbed his lightsaber and hid it in my jacket before Krayn could see. I had to hurt him to protect him. Krayn has always said he would kill a Jedi on sight." Her eyes pleaded with Obi-Wan to understand. "I told Krayn that Anakin was just one of the slaves we had on board, that I'd grabbed him to use as a shield if I needed one. He believed me, and had Rashtah take Anakin to the slave quarters. Anakin's been working here in the factory ever since we returned to Nar Shaddaa."

A former slave, returning to the life of a slave. Obi-Wan thought he could guess how well Anakin had reacted to _that_.

They had finished reloading the gravsled, and the driver revved the engines and drove away. Siri and Obi-Wan began to walk away from the prison entrance slowly.

"Did Anakin know who you really were?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I didn't think so - we were never formally introduced - but he must have recognized me somehow, because when I passed him in the factory this morning he started berating me for betraying the Order. Unfortunately, someone must have overheard him and reported it to Krayn. And that's how I ended up here."

They both glanced back at the prison entrance, and Obi-Wan was intensely relieved to see Ivan and Anakin emerge, wearing worker's smocks and seeming to be in no hurry.

Siri led him into a small storage shed just across from the prison, and the boys joined them a few moments later.

"Well done, Vanya," he murmured to Ivan, but to his surprise his Padawan did not flush with pride as he expected. In fact, now that he looked at Ivan more closely, the boy looked a bit pale.

Siri shut the door with a bang.

"Siri, I am so, so sorry," Anakin burst out the moment they were sure they were alone. "I blew your cover! Qui-Gon's always telling me not to be so impulsive and I completely ruined everything!"

"Anakin, relax," Siri said. "What's done is done. Let's concentrate on what we should be doing now."

"Which is?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Finding Qui-Gon, for one thing," Siri said. "I notified the Council that you were here, Anakin, and they said they would give Qui-Gon all the information I've gathered over the past year and a half and send him here to retrieve you. I expected him to be here by now."

"He's close," Anakin said. "I can sense him."

"Then I'm sure we'll meet up with him soon. As for me, I'd like to stow aboard Krayn's ship, if I can," Siri said. "He told me to have the contracts for the Kessel mine owners ready by today. I'm guessing he intends to leave tonight for Kessel to get them signed."

"Actually, Rashtah told us the two of you were going to be executed tonight in front of some big shot business partners Krayn was hoping to impress," Obi-Wan put in. "Do you think that could be them?"

"Sounds like it," Siri said. "If so, they'll probably be meeting in the conference room on the top floor of Krayn's personal quarters. We need to break up that meeting before they sign the documents."

"I'm supposed to do more than break up the meeting," Obi-Wan said. "I'm supposed to talk the owners into returning the spice trade to a legitimate business."

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you," Siri said. "This deal is going to be extremely lucrative for them."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Oh, did I step on your ego, Negotiator Kenobi?" Siri teased. "Don't worry. I'm sure we can all come up with some ideas to make your job easier."

The four of them began to brainstorm ideas. Before long, a rough plan started to form. It was undeniably pleasant to once again be working with Siri, but throughout the conversation Obi-Wan was also aware of an underlying tension between the two boys. It was hard to miss how Ivan kept flashing uncomfortable looks in Anakin's direction, which Anakin seemed oblivious to.

That was odd, Obi-Wan thought. The boys had seemed to hit it off, back on Coruscant. What had happened?

* * *

><p>"Wait, Siri, I'm confused."<p>

"Wouldn't be the first time." Siri smirked at Obi-Wan as they climbed the steps two at a time to the upper levels of Krayn's compound. Ivan was puffing behind them trying to keep up; his mood had lightened immediately after they parted company with Anakin, who was already on his way to the underground levels of the factory to carry out his part of the plan.

Obi-Wan ignored Siri's taunt. "How are you planning to get us into Krayn's security room, exactly? Don't you think he had your access codes disabled as soon as he found out you were a Jedi?"

"Doesn't matter if he did. I figured out Rashtah's codes a week after I got here."

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Pretty much."

"Not bad. For a little Padawan."

"Yes, we Padawans are nothing next to you, oh wise and mighty Jedi Knight," Siri said with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"Show some respect for your elders, little one. This wise and mighty Jedi Knight is going to wipe the training room floor with you the moment we get back to the Temple."

"In your dreams."

"Vanya, tell her," Obi-Wan said.

"My master is going to beat you like a drum," Ivan said obediently.

"See?" Obi-Wan said triumphantly.

"Oh, look, Kenobi, you've got yourself a little sycophant," Siri said, turning back to give Ivan a wink. "Isn't that sweet. But Ivan's secretly rooting for me, you know. We Padawans have to stick together."

"No, he isn't. He's on my side. Right, Vanya?" Obi-Wan glanced back at Ivan.

"Hey, don't trap me in the middle!" Ivan objected. "I'm afraid of _both_ of you."

They had arrived at the entrance to the security room, located directly below the conference room where they guessed Krayn was going to meet with the owners of the spice mines of Kessel. Siri's expression was supremely confident as she tapped Rashtah's code into the keypad, but Obi-Wan could tell she was holding her breath as she pressed the last button.

The door slid open. No alarms sounded. Siri breathed again.

The three of them crowded into the tiny room. Siri activated a viewscreen and rapidly toggled through a series of live video feeds of various areas throughout the factory.

"I'll show you the conference room above us," she said to Obi-Wan, "and then work on deactivating all the guard droids throughout the complex. We don't want a slaughter on our hands once Anakin convinces the slaves to revolt." She tapped a final series of buttons. "Here it is. I'm afraid there's no audio."

Together, the three of them looked at the video feed. They saw a dim room decorated sparingly in dull shades of gray and brown. A tall male T'surr stood in front of an oval table, his bright blue skin in sharp contrast to the dreary room. He was shirtless, and his chest rippled with muscles. Both his primary eyes and the secondary set above them gleamed red, and a row of blue horns crowned the top of his skull like a fan.

"Krayn," Siri said quietly. "Kriff it all. I was hoping we'd get here before him."

Four beings sat around the table before Krayn, one humanoid and three alien. The humanoid wore a bulky nerf-leather jacket and a helmet that obscured most of his face. He sat at the back with his arms crossed and didn't appear to be actively engaged in the discussion. Obi-Wan looked at the aliens closely. He didn't recognize any individuals, but he knew the species: the Colicoids.

Siri was shaking her head in disbelief. "Obi-Wan, it was the_ Colicoids'_ diplomatic ship Krayn attacked, the one Qui-Gon and Anakin were on! If the Colicoids are working with Krayn, why…?" She stopped and thought for a moment. "Krayn must have attacked them as a ruse, to allay any suspicion that they were working with him."

Obi-Wan fought the instinctive revulsion that arose in his throat at the sight of them. An insectoid species, Colicoids had hard brown exoskeletons and beady black eyes, and they scuttled about on four spiky legs that looked capable of spearing a man all the way through, but that wasn't what bothered him. The Colicoids bore a remarkable similarity to droidekas, the deadly rolling battle droids he and Qui-Gon had first encountered above Naboo nearly two years ago when the Trade Federation had unleashed them to assassinate the Jedi. The Colicoids were the engineers who designed and built the droidekas , then sold them to their allies in the Trade Federation.

This was not a good omen.

Even worse, the species were also notorious for hating Jedi.

Obi-Wan cut himself off from that unproductive line of thought. The Colicoids didn't have to like him, they just had to listen to him. He forced himself to concentrate on analyzing the situation. It was incredible that the Colicoids were making deals with a notorious slave trader. The species had recently joined the Republic. Siri was right, Obi-Wan thought; the financial incentives must be high for the Colicoids to induce them to risk losing their representation in the Galactic Senate with such a flagrant violation of law.

There would be no room for mistakes here; the negotiations would have to be carried out with utmost care. They could simply confront the Colicoids with what they knew and threaten them with the revocation of their membership in the Senate if they did not immediately cease all illegal activity. But Obi-Wan knew the aliens could very well choose their profitable criminal scheme over their membership in the Senate, in which case the Republic would completely lose control of the spice business, and anarchy would reign. They would have to use reason, not threats, to persuade the Colicoids to restore integrity to the spice trade.

"So how do we get Krayn out of the room so we can talk to the Colicoids?" Ivan asked.

"What do you think?" Obi-Wan asked him.

Ivan thought for a moment. "If he knew there were Jedi running loose around his factory, I'm pretty sure he'd abandon the meeting to take care of the problem."

"Not bad," Siri said. "I'll let you sweet-talk the Colicoids, Obi-Wan, since that's what you're best at. I'll draw Krayn away."

"Siri-," Obi-Wan began to object. "I dislike using human bait..." _Especially when it's you._

"Relax. I'm a big girl. I can handle Krayn." She powered up the com unit. "Besides, with any luck I won't have to confront him directly. I'm going to try to disable both his ships while he runs around trying to catch me. It'll make it easier to take him into custody when the time comes."

Obi-Wan wanted to argue the point further, but he saw the set look in Siri's eyes and knew it would do no good.

Siri activated a com channel, and a moment later Anakin answered.

"I've got the security droids deactivated now," Siri told him. "How's it going?"

"Good," Anakin said, sounding a little breathless. "I got a lot of the slaves to promise to help me if the droids were taken care of first. We've located the fuel reserve and we've worked out a way to ignite it. It'll take 15 minutes or so to set it up."

"Send me a stealth signal on my comlink when you're ready," Obi-Wan said. "Don't set it off unless I signal back."

"Got it."

At a nod from Obi-Wan, Siri cut off the signal.

"Well," she said, raising an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, "are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Siri, please be care-"

"You can tell me to be careful after it's all over," Siri interrupted. She was busy initiating a new com signal. "It makes me nervous when you do it before."

Obi-Wan and Ivan exchanged amused glances behind her back.

Siri pressed the final button. On the viewscreen, they saw Krayn reach down to his belt and pull out a comlink. A gruff voice sounded through the com speakers a moment later.

"Unless it's an emergency, it can wait," Krayn said curtly.

"Hello, Krayn," Siri said in a syrupy-sweet voice. "I just called to tell you how much I miss you."

A long silence crackled over the com channel. On the viewscreen, Krayn remained frozen in place for several seconds before abruptly striding out of the conference room. Siri toggled through the video feeds until she located Krayn again, now standing in the corridor on the level above them.

At last, Krayn acknowledged in a gruff voice: "Zora. Or whatever your name really is."

"I've tried and tried to tell you how inadequate the security in your little dungeon is," Siri said lightly. "Perhaps now you believe me?"

"When I catch you, Jedi scum," Krayn barked, "I will see to it you are executed in the most painful way imaginable!"

"Is that supposed to frighten me? I happen to know you don't have much imagination." Siri winked at Obi-Wan and Ivan playfully.

"You should have removed your carcass from my property when you had the chance," Krayn growled. "Now I'll remove it for you!"

"I'd love nothing better than to leave this miserable hole, but you see, Krayn, you're the first being to fire me from a job, and I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit disgruntled about that." Siri lowered her voice. "Use what little imagination you have, Krayn, and think about how much damage a lightsaber could do to your little operation here in the time it takes you to find me."

"You wouldn't _dare _-"

Siri activated her lightsaber and plunged it into a nearby console. "Whoops! There goes your subspace transceiver."

"Slag-sucking schutta!" Krayn roared.

The lightsaber stabbed into another console. "And your brand-new sensor network! How clumsy of me!"

Krayn didn't respond in words; on the viewscreen they saw him throw down his comlink, draw his blaster and charge down the stairs at the end of the corridor.

Siri casually opened the door to the corridor outside and stepped out. "Good luck, boys!" she said lightly, and then the door slid shut between them.

A few seconds later, the door slid open again. Ivan jumped, expecting to see Krayn charging into the room, but it was just Siri again.

"One more thing," she said, poking her head through the door. "Whatever you do, don't tangle with the Wookiee... I once saw him rip a guy's arm right out of its socket."

All three of them heard heavy footsteps pounding down the corridor toward them.

"Gotta go," Siri said, and the door slid shut again. A few moments later they heard blaster shots, followed closely by the crash and clink of shattered glass.

Silence.

After waiting what he judged was a safe length of time, Obi-Wan slipped out of the security room, with Ivan at his elbow. The corridor was deserted, and broken glass littered the floor by the stairwell. They ran to look out the shattered remains of the window. On the ground, Krayn was running full speed away from the building while brandishing his blaster. The compound appeared deserted; there was no sign of Siri anywhere.

Ivan whistled between his teeth. "She's fast!"

_I just hope she's fast enough,_ Obi-Wan thought_. _"Come," he said aloud to Ivan. "Now we must do our part."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	18. Chapter 17

**Laerwen Morfinnel,Icantstopreading, Geri K, Tatsumi13, Jedi Kay-Kenobi**: Wow, Siri is popular with all of you! Hmmm, I'm thinking I need to write more Siri stuff... You guys seems to enjoy having her around to make fun of Obi-Wan. ;-)

**To all my repeat reviewers: AndrossKenobi, Laerwen Morfinnel, Geri K, Jedi Kay-Kenobi, obi kenobi, My Flawed Design, Andromakhe, LadySaxophone, CC-645, Valairy Scot, Katerinaki, bluedragon1836, Kenji Hyuga White tiger, Torli, Hurricane Jackson, Above the Winter Moonlight, thewayfaringstrangers (hopefully I didn't miss anyone!):** I just wanted to give a special thanks to you all for giving multiple reviews. They are all helpful to me, and they boost my confidence, and I really appreciate the time you invest!

**letsdoitlive:** Very insightful of you. Siri's relationship with Obi-Wan is definately an important part of this story. Expect to see their relationship evolve over time.

**Vanex, Tatsumi13,Icantstopreading, letsdoitlive:** Thanks for your comments! Always nice to have new reviewers.

**obi kenobi:** Thank you. It's a fun challenge to find the right balance in telling each character's side of the story, and all the while trying to keep the main focus on Obi-Wan as I intended.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

Ivan and Obi-Wan shed their worker's smocks so they looked like smugglers once more, and side by side, they pounded up the stairs to the conference room where the Colicoids awaited Krayn's return. When they reached the door, Obi-Wan paused a moment and looked over at Ivan. His Padawan was breathing heavily, not just from the climb but also from a nervous energy that was actually making him bounce up and down on his toes.

"Vanya," he said.

"What?"

"Relax."

"Oh. Right." Ivan stopped the bouncing and smoothed his expression. Outwardly, he looked calm, but Obi-Wan could still feel the tension radiating from the boy through the Force.

"Close your eyes," Obi-Wan instructed. "Visualize a quiet stream of water flowing through your mind..."

"_Master_!" Ivan said, dropping the calm facade and shooting him an are-you-kidding-me look. "Do we _have_ to do this now? There's no time!"

"We can't afford _not_ to take the time to do this, Padawan. Now close your eyes."

Ivan sighed noisily, but he obeyed, and after Obi-Wan led him through a short meditative exercise, he was much calmer.

"Better?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes," Ivan admitted. "Master, what do you want me to do in there?"

"I want you to observe, and listen."

Ivan seemed to be waiting for more, and when he didn't get it, his expression turned pleading. "But I want to help!"

"You will be helping. Your most important job, during our first few missions, is to learn, so you'll be equipped to help me more actively in the future."

"But Anakin's only been on one mission before this, and he gets his own assignment!"

Obi-Wan was momentarily taken aback. "Anakin was sent to lead the slave revolt because he has already established a relationship with them. The slaves trust him because he was one of them," he reminded Ivan. "You will get your own assignments soon, Padawan. I promise."

Ivan slowly nodded. Obi-Wan could tell his Padawan was not fully satisfied with the answer, but there would be more time to talk about it later.

"Ready, then?"

"Yes, Master."

"Here we go." And Obi-Wan palmed the door control and burst through.

All three Colicoids scrambled out of their chairs and scuttled backwards in alarm at the sudden intrusion. The helmeted humanoid in the back of the room stood abruptly and trained his blaster on Obi-Wan, but he didn't fire, and Obi-Wan noticed his aim was off; any shots would just miss his head and hit the wall behind him. The next instant, he recognized the blue eyes looking at him through the gap in the helmet: Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan was relieved to see his old Master there, and he hoped that what he was planning to do wouldn't interfere with whatever it was Qui-Gon was there to accomplish. A silent look of understanding passed between the two men; as always, they would rely on the Force to achieve unity in purpose.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Obi-Wan said, glancing at each of the Colicoids to include them in the greeting. "Seal the door!" he ordered Ivan, who immediately ran to the controls on the wall and slammed the blast door down with a thunderous sound. Obi-Wan grabbed the edge of the conference table and pulled it toward the door with all his strength. It was a massive kriin-wood table, and it made a horrible screeching noise as he dragged it across the floor. Ivan ran around to the other side of the table and helped push. The Colicoids stood in the back of the room, looking stunned.

"What in the name of the Great Galactic Wheel are you doing?" one of them demanded, bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

"This place is crawling with Jedi," Obi-Wan said grimly, "and I'd prefer not to meet up with one, wouldn't you?"

"Jedi, here?" the same Colicoid said hoarsely. "But... but Krayn's security is top-notch... a Jedi could never get in... and who _are_ you, anyway? This is a private meeting!"

"I'm someone who _was_ planning to do business with Krayn, until I found out how inept he is," Obi-Wan said flatly, as he and Ivan struggled to tip the table over and push it up against the door. "And I assure you, there are Jedi here, and more than one. They've got Krayn on the run. It's only a matter of time before they make their way here."

"But a blast door won't stop them!" the Colicoid shouted in a panic. "Their lightsabers can cut through anything, the Nemoidians told us!"

"If you have any better ideas, I'm listening, uh... I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

The Colicoid struggled to control his trembling. "It's Nor Fik. And perhaps we won't have to worry about the Jedi after all. Krayn isn't as incompetent as you seem to think; he told us earlier today he has already captured two Jedi and plans to execute them tonight."

"They escaped; didn't Krayn tell you that? That's why he left the meeting so abruptly."

"He... he failed to mention that..." Nor Fik said uncertainly.

"Well, even if he manages to survive battle with the Jedi today, I'll be taking my shipments to some other processing factory after this, I can tell you," Obi-Wan said with feeling. "And I'll be telling all the other smugglers to stay away from this place, too. It just isn't worth the risk."

"Now, don't be hasty," Nor Fik said in what was presumably meant to be a reassuring way, although his words came out in a squeak and he kept sending anxious glances toward the barricaded door. "Krayn does make an impressive profit here, and I'm certain he rewards good smugglers handsomely with those funds. Tell him, Bakleeda," the Colicoid added, glancing back at Qui-Gon.

"To the contrary," Qui-Gon said, stepping forward and facing Nor Fik. "With respect, sir, I toured the factory as you hired me to do and I studied the records kept by his associate, Zora, and it has been my observation that Krayn squanders his assets. He has a large contingent of slaves here, many of them skilled laborers, and yet he provides them barely enough food and water to survive on, and no medical care at all. The mortality rate is high, and Krayn is frequently forced to leave management of the factory in the hands of his underlings while he goes on more and more slave raids to replace those who die. Then the new slaves must be trained, but they do not cooperate readily because of the poor treatment they receive. The only way Krayn keeps producing a profit is by shortchanging the smugglers who deliver spice to the factory, and selling some of the best slaves he finds on raids to rich beings for exorbitant prices. This is unsustainable. Frankly, it would be cheaper to convert the slaves to employees."

"Impossible," Nor Fik said. "Then we would have to pay them! Why should we pay someone who will work for free?" He laughed derisively at the idea, and the other Colicoids joined in.

"Even with the additional expense of wages, you would more than make up for it with a more stable, loyal workforce and by eliminating the need to spend resources on slave raids," Qui-Gon patiently explained. "I have all the numbers here if you'd care to look at them. Krayn's own associate, Zora, ran these projections, and she has been overseeing his finances for more than a year."

Qui-Gon handed Nor Fik a datapad, and the three Colicoids crowded around it and studied it in silence for several minutes. At last, Nor Fik lowered the datapad.

"This is all very interesting, but if Zora could not persuade Krayn to convert the slaves to employees, how could we?" he asked Qui-Gon.

"I don't think you'll have to," Obi-Wan put in. "The Jedi are pursuing him, and I think it's unlikely he will escape them."

"Then you'll be free to take over management of the factory yourself," Qui-Gon put in, "and save even more credits by cutting out the middleman."

"If the Jedi catch Krayn, they'll catch _us_," Nor Fik snapped. "He has no loyalty to us; he wouldn't hesitate to turn us in if he thought it would earn him leniency on his sentence."

"I suspect that what the Jedi want, more than anything, is to see the spice trade return to legitimacy," Obi-Wan mused. "Perhaps if you signed a contract, right now, to convert the slaves to employees, the Jedi would show you mercy."

"That's a very big 'if,'" one of the other Colicoids ground out.

"Let us discuss this in private," Nor Fik said, pulling his two companions to the other end of the room. The three insectoids huddled over the datapad Qui-Gon had provided and began to converse quietly among themselves.

Qui-Gon casually strolled over to gaze out the window overseeing the factory complex, taking care not to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. Obi-Wan dropped his hand on Ivan's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He tried to ignore the knot that was forming in his stomach. It was a strange truth that he rarely felt nervous while negotiating, but when he was waiting to learn the outcome it was another story entirely.

Just then he felt his comlink buzz silently in his pocket three times – Anakin's signal that he was in place and ready. Obi-Wan hoped he wouldn't have to use this particular Plan B, but Anakin had assured him he would make sure no one was within range of the blast.

After a long whispered discussion, the Colicoids broke out of their huddle and returned to share their decision.

"We've found it, the perfect solution," Nor Fik said with considerable satisfaction. "We like the idea of taking over the factory, but we will not make the same mistakes Krayn has. It's madness to waste credits on paying wages to slaves, of course, but unlike Krayn we will provide medical care and feed them enough to keep them alive. It's like maintaining a ship; you must conserve your fuel, but ensure that you reach your destination." The Colicoid leader looked quite pleased with himself for coming up with the analogy.

"But what about the Jedi?" Obi-Wan asked. "If they discover you are here..."

"It is a risk we must take," Nor Fik said, although Obi-Wan could sense through the Force the insectoid's confidence wavering. "Our ship isn't far from here. Bakleeda, you will come with us and ensure we reach our ship safely. Later, when the Jedi have left with Krayn, we can move all the slaves out of the compound and make it appear the factory has been closed in case the Jedi return. As soon as it seems safe, we can resume operations."

Obi-Wan was careful to hide his disappointment. He had thought perhaps the Colicoids were better than this, but it seemed greed was their most powerful motivator after all. Unobtrusively, he slipped his hand into his jacket and pressed a button on his comlink.

Time for Plan B.

He didn't have long to wait. The Colicoids had only just started to push the upended table away from the door when the explosion sounded, close enough to their building that the floor shook with the impact. Upon hearing the deafening sound, all three Colicoids instinctively curled themselves into compact balls, droideka-style, and rolled away to the far corner of the conference room. Bits of debris rained against the window and clattered down to the hard-packed ground below. A fine curtain of permacrete dust drifted down from the ceiling.

In the ensuing silence, Nor Fik was the first to hastily right himself and scuttle over to the window to see what had happened. Thick black smoke poured from the entrance of the building next to theirs; a significant portion of the roof was missing and the rest of the structure was in flames.

Slaves were flooding out of the entrance, brandishing beamdrills and fusion cutters. They were led by a small figure waving a blue lightsaber in the air: Anakin. The mob began swarming mining equipment and storage sheds, destroying anything and everything they could reach with their improvised weapons. In moments some of them had reached the entrance of Krayn's personal compound and began hacking at the doors and windows. The Colicoids backed away from the conference room's window in alarm, although, being on the top floor, they were high enough that there was little chance the slaves could throw any projectiles into their room. Anakin weaved through the crowd with the unmistakable grace and skill of a Jedi and began carving a sizable hole in the front entrance with his lightsaber, to the cheers of the slaves nearest him. Nor Fik uttered a muffled curse and cast his eyes around the room in a panic.

"Only one exit?" he cried in disappointment, as though he had only just now noticed. "What are we going to do?"

"Send Bakleeda to deal with the Jedi," one of his companions said in a hoarse voice.

"I'm not equipped to fight a Jedi!" Qui-Gon snapped. "It takes more than a blaster to defeat them!"

"Well, if you can't fight him, at least go talk to him," Nor Fik pleaded. "Make him believe we are innocent bystanders. Please!"

"And how shall I do that? You can't lie to Jedi; they can play mind tricks, they can make me tell them everything they want to know!"

Nor Fik ground his mandibles together in frustration. He cautiously inched back toward the window. The crowd on the ground was rapidly thinning because almost all the slaves in the area had entered their building by this time; they could hear the distant shouts and thumps of the mob in the floors below them.

"I told you we would never be able to keep up the deception," Nor Fik's companion growled. "Now we will lose everything!"

"Silence, Anf!" Nor Fik snapped. "Just... let me think." He turned his back on everyone and hunched over, his beady black eyes lidding over with a cloudy white film.

A tense silence descended over the conference room. Below them, the shouts and crashes grew closer and closer. Nor Fik's two companions shifted their spiky legs uncomfortably. Finally the Colicoid leader spoke again, his voice quiet.

"Did Zora happen to draw up the documents to convert the slaves to employees?"

"She did," Qui-Gon said.

"Let me see it."

Qui-Gon tapped a few buttons on his datapad and handed it to Nor Fik, who scanned the text rapidly.

"Sir, I think it would be a mistake to..." Anf began to say, but Nor Fik cut him off.

"We have no other choice, Anf. We must make the conversion, and hope the Jedi are satisfied with that." Grimly, he tapped a few buttons on the datapad with his long, segmented fingers and then handed it back to Qui-Gon.

"Go out and show this to the Jedi, Bakleeda," he said wearily. "See that he understands our operation here will soon be in total compliance with the Republic laws regarding the spice trade."

"As you wish," Qui-Gon said neutrally. He tucked the datapad under his arm and began to walk out the door.

"Bakleeda!" Nor Fik suddenly called out. Qui-Gon paused at the door.

"Have him tell the workers they are now in violation of union regulations," Nor Fik added. "Any further damage they inflict on my equipment or property will be taken from their wages."

Qui-Gon nodded, and then he was gone.

They didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later, Qui-Gon returned and reported that the Jedi had accepted his explanation that the Colicoids had just taken over management of the factory to ensure the slaves would be converted to employees and given all the rights that went with that status.

The relief emanating from the Colicoids was palpable.

"The Jedi is working on dispersing the crowd now," Qui-Gon continued. "He believes peace should be restored soon. The workers were pleased to hear of the reforms you are making. I suspect you will not see another uprising, as long as you stick to the terms of employment as outlined by Zora."

"And have the Jedi taken Krayn into custody?" the gruff Colicoid, Anf, asked.

"Not yet," Qui-Gon said.

"Then you must stay with us, Bakleeda, until we are certain it is safe to leave the room," Nor Fik said nervously.

"Very well," Qui-Gon said, glancing at Obi-Wan, and as he leaned against the wall and hooked his fingers into his belt casually, Obi-Wan did not miss the slight flick of his fingers in the direction of the door.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I must see that my ship was not damaged in the chaos," Obi-Wan said, catching the hint. The Colicoids took little notice of him as he left the room with Ivan following close behind.

Obi-Wan waited until he and Ivan were around the corner from the conference room doorway before he sighed deeply and leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes and slowly rubbed his face with his hands. When he opened them again, Ivan had a huge grin plastered on his face. "That was brilliant, Master!"

"No, that was nerve-wracking." But Obi-Wan did permit himself a smile nevertheless, before straightening himself up with renewed energy. "But we aren't finished yet." He pulled his comlink out and initiated a call to Siri, who answered promptly.

"Mission accomplished here," he said. "What's your status?"

"I've disabled Krayn's ship parked on the north end of the factory," Siri said breathlessly, "and I'm working on his secondary ship to the southeast now. I lost Krayn a long time ago and I haven't seen him since... or Rashtah, for that matter."

"You know Krayn best. What will his next move be?"

"My guess is that as soon as he realized how widespread the rebellion was, he went to the treasury to get all the credits he's had stashed away. Now he'll be looking for a way out of the compound so he can recruit some allies to come back and help him quell the uprising."

"So he'll either be headed toward you..."

"Or to his other ship to the north. I'll stay here and wait in case he comes this way. Did you notice a tower near the entrance to the compound where you came in? Krayn's personal landing platform is at the top of the tower."

"Yes, it's near where I left my ship." Fleetingly, Obi-Wan thought of Janri, who was presumably still waiting on his ship, believing Obi-Wan to be working on breaking his "sister" out of prison. She must be worried sick about him, considering how long he'd been gone now, but she would have to wait. Duty first. Krayn must not be permitted to escape. "Ivan and I will head that way."

"Understood. And Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful." Siri kept her tone light, but he knew she meant it.

Obi-Wan hid a grin. "You too." He tucked the comlink back into his belt and let his eyes twinkle at Ivan. "Ready for some more... _aggressive_ negotiations, Vanya?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Master."

Together, they raced through Krayn's compound. Much of the mob had dissipated, but those workers they passed were no longer bent on destruction, but were congratulating each other, shaking hands and embracing one another, their faces filled with joy as they tasted freedom at last. Obi-Wan wanted to enjoy seeing the fruits of his labor, but he was distracted by something else: a quiet dread filling his heart, a sudden darkening in the stream of the Force that flowed through him. Something was happening nearby. Something bad. He focused on quieting his mind so that the Force could flow through him more deeply. Whatever was happening, he needed to be prepared for it, and he would need the help of the Force. He was gratified to sense Ivan following his lead as the boy blended his Force-awareness with Obi-Wan through their tenuous new bond.

Soon, they approached the perimeter of the compound, guarded by a tower many stories high. To his shock, Obi-Wan also caught a glimpse of a glowing blue blade waving at the top of the heights, and blood-red blaster bolts scattering the air around it.

"Is that...?" Ivan began.

"...Anakin," Obi-Wan finished grimly, and they both put on an extra burst of speed. Obi-Wan had no idea how Anakin had known where to look for Krayn, but he knew the boy should not fight the slaver alone. He was only a half-trained Padawan yet, despite his prodigious talents, and Krayn was a hardened warrior who had survived many battles. Not to mention that Anakin's recent return to slavery here in Krayn's factory must surely have dredged up unpleasant childhood memories. This was the source of the warning from the Force, Obi-Wan was certain. Anakin may not have learned the control he needed to engage in a fight like this without succumbing to the darker emotions that every Jedi was tempted with from time to time. Young Padawans were often unprepared for how quickly a sense of justice within themselves could warp into vengeance in the heat of battle.

Obi-Wan sprinted into the turbolift at the base of the tower with Ivan on his heels, and jabbed the button to take them to the surface.

The lift had scarcely started moving when a loud thump above their heads made them look up. The thump was followed by the ear-curdling war-cry of an irate Wookiee.

Obi-Wan and Ivan exchanged startled looks, then looked up again as the service hatch at the top of the lift was yanked open.

"Oh, not good," Obi-Wan said as a huge furry creature dropped down between them.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: If you've been following this story, you do not want to miss the next chapter!<em>


	19. Chapter 18

****_Author's note_: I'm trying something different this week. I'll be sending responses to reviews by PM. Just FYI.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

_Whatever you do, don't tangle with the Wookiee,_ Siri had said.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth together. She was never going to let him live this down.

Trapped in a tiny turbolift taking them up to Krayn's landing pad - where even now Anakin was battling the slaver - Obi-Wan and Ivan didn't have to wait long after Rashtah's sudden arrival to find out what the Wookiee wanted with them.

A warning from the Force prompted Obi-Wan to shield his face with his arm just before a furry fist came flying toward him.

Even so, the blow knocked him down to the floor, his head banging against the turbolift wall, leaving him momentarily disoriented. Rashtah smashed his fist at the controls and the turbolift jerked to a sudden halt, sending all three of them off-balance.

On the other side of the turbolift, Ivan was the first to recover. Bracing one hand against the wall, he landed a solid high kick in the small of the Wookiee's back.

Rashtah didn't even flinch. He turned and casually backhanded Ivan across the face, sending him flying. The combat training Ivan had received at the Temple since his earliest years meant that he knew how to take a hit and keep going, but nevertheless Obi-Wan felt a certain instinctive desperation to prevent his Padawan from getting pulverized by an enemy much larger and stronger than a boy barely in his teens. Obi-Wan scrambled back to his feet and swung at the Wookiee before he could wind up for another strike against Ivan, and got punched in the gut for his troubles. He kept his arms up to protect his face as he struggled for breath, and then all he could see was a raging hairy blur as the blows rained down on him fast and furious.

"Ivan! Get us moving!" Obi-Wan managed to yell hoarsely, ramming his elbow into the Wookiee's sternum. They had to get to Krayn's ship, and there was no time to waste.

Unfortunately, the turbolift was tiny, and Ivan was on the wrong side of the Wookiee to reach the controls. Obi-Wan struggled with Rashtah as Ivan dropped down on all fours and crawled through their legs.

Obi-Wan hardly had time to recover from each strike before the next one came, and his own hits barely fazed the Wookiee. He fiercely wished he could use his lightsaber, but even if he could get a moment to unclip and ignite it, it didn't seem a good idea in such close quarters. He might end up hurting Ivan by mistake.

Ivan finally reached the controls and the turbolift shot up again. Obi-Wan was ready for the change in momentum, but Rashtah staggered, caught off-balance.

Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him, and he sensed Ivan doing the same. The Force pulsed between them, and Obi-Wan didn't need to look behind Rashtah to know what Ivan would do next.

Ivan rose up behind the Wookiee with an uncharacteristically fierce look on his face, and kicked him sharply in the back of the knees, creating an opening for Obi-Wan to wallop the Wookiee squarely in the head.

Rashtah's deafening howl of pain filled the confined space. But incredibly, he remained on his feet and, before Ivan could duck away, the Wookiee snatched him roughly by the neck and lifted him into the air. With his feet dangling uselessly above the floor and his face reddening from the constriction, Ivan gouged his nails into Rashtah's wrist, to no effect.

Obi-Wan couldn't attack with Ivan between them. Rashtah took advantage of his hesitation. With Ivan dangling from one hand, he grabbed Obi-Wan by the ear with the other and deliberately slammed the two Jedi's heads together.

Obi-Wan saw stars and stumbled down onto his knees. The Wookiee howled triumphantly and tried to throw Ivan against the door of the turbolift... but the doors opened just as he did so, and Ivan went skidding outside onto the landing pad instead.

Through the haze in his vision, Obi-Wan looked through the door and caught a glimpse of a glowing blue lightsaber swinging in the distance: Anakin's.

"Go! Go!" he shouted at Ivan.

The Force was flowing through Obi-Wan like a river now, and as Rashtah leaped toward him, Obi-Wan rapidly rolled under him and out of the turbolift. It only took a second to roll to his feet and ignite his lightsaber. Rashtah came barreling out of the turbolift just as Obi-Wan whirled and slashed.

One leg cut out from under him, Rashtah fell onto his face. He did not rise.

No time to rest. Obi-Wan spun around and saw that Anakin and Krayn were battling in front of Krayn's ship. Ivan had nearly reached them, his green lightsaber swinging in his left hand as he ran. Obi-Wan pelted after them.

Krayn was wielding an enormous vibro-ax in one hand and a blaster in the other, but he looked exhausted, whereas Anakin looked sharp and focused. Obi-Wan saw the slaver swing the vibro-ax in a sweeping blow. Anakin ducked and then Force-pushed the blaster out of Krayn's other hand, shouting something indistinct.

With his now-empty fist, Krayn sent Anakin tumbling across the landing platform. Out of the corner of his eye, the slaver saw Ivan approaching at full speed. Krayn turned around and lifted his vibro-ax to strike at the boy - but he was too late. Ivan was already in motion, ducking smoothly underneath the swing and his hand coming up as he sliced off Krayn's weapon hand in a precision blow.

Krayn bellowed in shock, dropping to his knees. Behind him, Anakin had scrambled to his feet and was poised to attack again, a deadly expression on his face.

"Anakin, don't!" Obi-Wan shouted.

Anakin didn't seem to hear. He darted forward swiftly, holding his lightsaber firmly in one hand, bringing it upward with unerring accuracy toward Krayn's back. But Ivan was still standing directly in front of Krayn, and Obi-Wan saw in an instant that his Padawan had let his guard down, thinking the danger was over.

"Vanya!" Obi-Wan tried to shout, but he couldn't find his voice and everything was happening too fast.

Anakin's lightsaber stabbed upward into Krayn's back, the burning blue blade passing all the way through his torso and jutting out the other side. Obi-Wan saw Ivan jerk away from the tip of Anakin's blade and fall to the ground, clutching at his chest.

Krayn's massive body toppled over onto Ivan, as slowly and ponderously as a manax tree felled by an ax.

It seemed to take an eternity for Obi-Wan to run the last few steps to get there. He dropped his own lightsaber and began to tug frantically at Krayn's limp body. Adrenalin fueled him, but even so it took all his strength to pull that massive weight off his Padawan. Anakin simply stood there, breathing heavily, staring at Krayn's slack face, his lightsaber still ignited. He didn't seem to realize what had just happened to Ivan.

At last, Obi-Wan managed to roll the body off Ivan. The boy was sprawled on his back, one hand clamped against his chest, and Obi-Wan was amazed to see that his eyes were still open and alert. He knelt down and gingerly laid his hand on top of Ivan's as the boy moaned softly in pain. Obi-Wan smelled burnt flesh and fought the panic that was trying to choke him.

"Let me see it. Let me see it," he said, trembling, prying Ivan's reluctant hand away from his chest. The tunic had a smoking hole in it. Obi-Wan felt dizzy. This was not happening, not to Ivan, not now - he was only a child. _What was I thinking, to let him fight Krayn before I could get there? I should never have let him out of my reach!_

Gently, he pulled the edges of the tunic apart and brushed aside the river stone that hung on its silver chain around Ivan's neck, and saw... nothing.

Astounded, Obi-Wan ran his hand over Ivan's bare chest, but it was certain; there was no wound. The blade had not penetrated.

Feeling weak with a sudden and profound rush of relief, Obi-Wan sat back on his heels and covered his mouth with a trembling hand. It took some time before he trusted himself to lower his hand and speak again.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked Ivan quietly. The boy was still grimacing in pain.

"Here," Ivan grunted, pointing. "Feels like I got caught between a rancor and a reek." Obi-Wan bent closer and looked carefully at his chest, but all he could see was the faint beginnings of a bruise.

"How did-" he broke off and shook his head in disbelief. "How did the blade burn your tunic, and not you?"

Ivan struggled into a sitting position, and Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his arm to help him. Ivan looked down. "Oh, no, my stone!" he moaned, picking up the river stone from where it lay on his chest. "It got melted!"

Indeed, the silver wire that wrapped around the stone and secured it to its chain was thoroughly blackened and melted on one side, although the stone itself seemed unharmed. Obi-Wan frowned; if the lightsaber had struck the stone and melted the wire, how had the stone escaped damage?

"Master, look," Ivan said incredulously, "I think the stone must have stopped the blade! I think it saved my life!"

"Impossible," Obi-Wan said, but Ivan didn't seem to hear. "And touch it, Master!" he added excitedly, momentarily forgetting his pain. "It feels warm!"

Confused, Obi-Wan touched the stone. Was it his imagination, or was there a slight warmth radiating from its center? He had thought, many years ago, that the stone had given off a warmth that comforted him as the Syndicat guards prepared to erase his memories, but as time passed he had managed to convince himself it had all been in his head.

And now, he didn't know what to think.

"A lightsaber would instantly cut through an ordinary rock," he murmured, more to himself than to Ivan.

"Master," Ivan said, wonderment in his voice. "The stone _isn't_ ordinary, is it? It's Force-sensitive! Why didn't you tell me?"

For a moment, Obi-Wan was speechless. _Because I thought it was just a pretty rock_, he thought, but he did not say it out loud. Who was he to destroy the faith of a child?

And why had he lost his own faith? Once, he too had been convinced the stone had a power of its own. Why had he ever doubted?

Obi-Wan slowly rubbed his thumb over the rough edges of the stone. Its red streaks, which had shone out brilliantly against the glassy black surface only hours before, were now dulled, barely visible in the weak sunlight reaching it through the smoggy atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa. The stone felt like a lifeless weight in his hand.

"Where did it come from?" Ivan asked in a hushed voice. "What _is_ it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. "I have no idea."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>_Author's note:_ I'm really struggling to know how best to divide up chapters. I like the end them when there's a natural "ending" feeling to the action, but that means that sometimes one chapter is quite short, like this one, and then the next one will end up quite long. Any thoughts on that?


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Ivan took the river stone back from Obi-Wan, and at his touch the silver wire wrapped around the stone, which had been damaged from the blow from Anakin's lightsaber, disintegrated into cinders that drifted away in a smog-choked Nar Shaddaa breeze. Now freed from its chain, the stone lay in Ivan's hand, looking every bit like the ordinary rock it wasn't. Ivan reverently dusted the gritty black powder off the stone and looked at Obi-Wan questioningly.

"Keep it safe," Obi-Wan said, and nodded his approval as Ivan tucked the stone out of sight into an inner pocket of his tunic. "I have a story or two to tell you about that stone, Padawan," Obi-Wan continued, "but this isn't the best time. We'll talk about this more later. Right now, I want to make sure you're all right. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My head hurts," Ivan said ruefully, rubbing the side of his head. "You have a hard head, Master."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I could say the same about you," he replied, lightly touching the growing lump on his own head. "Are you as good at healing yourself as you are at healing others?"

"I guess. But couldn't you help me?"

"Perhaps in a minute. Just let me check on Anakin first."

As one, they glanced over at Anakin. He was still simply standing several feet away from them, facing Krayn's body, his gaze turned inward and his face blank. He seemed completely unaware of their presence.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently, standing and moving toward the boy. "_Anakin_."

He did not hear. Obi-Wan tried again, this time using the nickname he had heard Qui-Gon use: "Ani."

Abruptly, Anakin came to himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at Obi-Wan with a slightly startled expression.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin didn't answer for a long moment. Finally, he gestured weakly toward Krayn's body. "He killed my friend's mother," he said softly. "Her name was Hala. She and my friend Amee were slaves on Tatooine, like me."

He bent down and fumbled at Krayn's belt, which had dozens of items hanging from it: jewelry and hair ornaments and strands of braided hair. When Anakin stood again, he was holding a trinket: a small metal bell that jingled softly as it swung on its cord. "Hala used to wear this around her neck," he continued quietly. "Amee found it in the sand one day and gave it to her. Then there was a slave raid. Hala was taken. I wasn't home when it happened and I was afraid my mom might have been taken from me, too." He drew in a ragged breath. "I guess I was the lucky one that day. But not Amee. We all knew she would never see her mom again."

Abruptly, Anakin's face crumpled, and he fought for control. Suddenly he burst out: "I should be happy he's dead! After all that he's done, to so many people... but I don't feel anything at all! Why can't I?"

"You're in shock, Anakin. You can't be expected to feel anything right now."

"I just... I thought I would feel better if..." Anakin trailed off, and then he shut his eyes tightly. After a few moments, he started to quietly sob.

Obi-Wan had no idea what to do. He didn't know Anakin well, and he didn't know how to help him. He wished Qui-Gon were here.

But since he wasn't, Obi-Wan had to do something. He hesitated, and then put his arm around Anakin's shoulders. To his surprise, the boy immediately turned toward him and buried his face into Obi-Wan's tunic.

"It's over now," Obi-Wan said, patting Anakin's shoulder awkwardly. "It's over."

It took several long minutes for Anakin to regain control.

Just as the boy seemed to have calmed down at last, Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon and Siri approach and take in the sight of Krayn and Rashtah both lying on the landing pad, and Ivan sitting crosslegged a short distance away with his eyes closed as he concentrated on dulling his pain. At the sound of their footsteps, Anakin pulled away from Obi-Wan and straightened himself, composing his features.

"Ani?" Qui-Gon said, resting a hand on his Padawan's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Master." And Anakin's voice was, indeed, perfectly steady now, betraying no hint of the pain he'd been expressing a short time ago. Obi-Wan knew from long experience that Qui-Gon wouldn't be fooled for a moment, but he also understood that Anakin dreaded, more than anything, to show weakness before his master. "I have everything under control."

Qui-Gon quietly looked at Anakin, who steadily returned his gaze, until at last Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Siri said you had a ship nearby? The Wookiee over there is still alive and needs some care."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, glancing automatically toward Siri, who was kneeling on the platform next to Ivan and gently dabbing at a scrape on his face. "I'll call my partner, Janri, and have her fly it here."

But Janri did not answer his com signal. Obi-Wan felt his heart slowly sink in his chest, but he tried not to leap to conclusions as he left the others and hurried back to his ship.

Janri was not on board, and Obi-Wan immediately saw from inside the cockpit that she'd had a perfectly clear view of Krayn's personal landing pad. Which meant Janri had seen everything that had just transpired there.

Obi-Wan sighed. He had been hoping to convince Janri to be a runner for the Colicoids, to give her a taste of the satisfaction of working within the law, rather than outside of it, but now that she knew the truth about who he was, she was, apparently, aggressively uninterested in seeing him again. He could only imagine what she must think of him now. For a few moments, Obi-Wan permitted the bittersweet sensations of regret to course through him.

As a whole, the mission had been a successful one. The galaxy had been rid of a ruthless slaver, although he might have preferred to see Krayn behind bars rather than under a sheet. More importantly, the Colicoids had freed the slaves and agreed to submit to Republic inspection of spice loads once more.

But Obi-Wan could not help feeling a quiet pang of dissatisfaction. The mission could have, and should have, gone better. He had lost his friendship with Janri, just when he might have been able to do her much good. He had shown an embarrassing lack of faith in Siri's loyalty to the Jedi Order. He had nearly gotten his Padawan killed, and on the boy's first mission, no less. And then he had chosen to leave an injured Ivan to his own devices while he had tried to comfort a distraught Anakin. He was far from certain he had done Anakin any good, and he hadn't missed the sharp little flickers of animosity emanating from Ivan as he made the attempt; the same negativity Ivan had directed at Anakin earlier, when they had made their escape from Krayn's prison.

Obi-Wan forced himself not to speculate on the cause of the conflict, hoping that Ivan was mature enough to resolve it or put it behind him on his own initiative, but Obi-Wan had the uneasy feeling that the full consequences of that animosity were yet to come.

* * *

><p>Once Krayn's body had been loaded onto the ship, they were ready for departure. As they blasted away from Nar Shaddaa, Obi-Wan joined Qui-Gon in the cockpit to fill him in on everything he'd missed out on. Siri was down in the medical bay, overseeing the medical droid who was treating the Wookiee, Rashtah.<p>

Ivan and Anakin strapped themselves into seats in the main hold until the ship made the first jump to hyperspace, taking them swiftly back toward Coruscant. Then Anakin unstrapped himself and absent-mindedly switched on the holographic dejarik board. Immediately, he noticed several of the holoprojectors had glitches in them, and with purposeful energy he took off the top of the board and began fiddling with the wires underneath.

After a few minutes' silence, Ivan unstrapped himself too and came to hover behind Anakin's shoulder. "You should be more careful," he said.

Anakin glanced down at the mechanical guts of the dejarik board, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You nearly killed me, that's what I mean!"

A look of regret crossed Anakin's face. "I'm sorry, Ivan. I'm really, really sorry. It was an accident. I didn't see that you'd disarmed Krayn and I thought he was about to kill you. I was trying to help you!"

"I didn't need your help!" Ivan snapped. "I was doing just fine on my own."

Anakin knew he should just drop the subject, but for some reason he couldn't. "No, you weren't." The words came out before he could stop them. "Your guard was down."

"Of course it was! He was disarmed, he was wounded, I had everything under control!"

"You _never_ have everything under control with the likes of him, Ivan!" Anakin said, his words growing more forceful. "You don't understand because you've just barely begun to stick your nose out of your safe little Temple, fighting your predictable little remotes. Slavers like him have many tricks. They keep holdout blasters hidden in their boots and vibro-shivs tucked into their sleeves. The battle wasn't over, not by a long shot. I know his kind. He would never have stopped fighting until all of us were dead, or _he_ was."

Ivan's face had grown stonier and stonier as Anakin spoke. "Well, you're the Chosen One, so I guess you already know everything, then," he retorted.

"Don't call me that," Anakin snapped.

"Why not? It's what you are, isn't it?"

Anakin slammed down his hydrospanner. "My name is Anakin Skywalker, and I'm a _person_, not a prophecy!"

"If you say so." Ivan was through with the conversation. "Whoever or whatever you are, just stay away from me from now on. And stay away from my master. He is _mine_, you know, and not yours, so stop acting like he is. Go cry on Qui-Gon's shoulder."

And with that, he left the main hold.

"Master? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Obi-Wan glanced up from the co-pilot's controls to see Ivan stepping into the cockpit.

"Of course. What's going on?"

"Alone, I mean."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Obi-Wan followed Ivan out of the cockpit and into the circuitry bay, which afforded some privacy.

Ivan rubbed his hands together nervously and didn't look Obi-Wan in the eye for a few moments.

"Master?" he began uncertainly.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan said encouragingly.

Ivan took a deep breath and began to talk. "In the prison, when I came close to the cell where Anakin was being held, I heard him talking to the other slaves there," he said. "He was telling them not to worry anymore because he was going to bring Krayn to justice. He said Krayn had stolen away one of his friends on Tatooine during a slave raid many years ago, and he swore to them that..." Ivan paused. "He said he would not leave Nar Shaddaa until Krayn was dead."

Obi-Wan felt as though a rock had been dropped into his stomach. Krayn was an enemy, yes, but their goal had been to take him into custody, not kill him. And Jedi did not swear vengeance on anyone, no matter how deserving. If it were true... then Anakin's actions on Nar Shaddaa would not have been justice, but revenge. He knew of Anakin's unhappy past as a slave. It was no stretch to think the boy could have been harboring a secret hatred for all those connected with the slave trade. Obi-Wan suddenly felt dizzy. _Had_ Anakin heard him when he told the boy to stop, once Krayn had been disarmed? Had he ignored Obi-Wan's call, knowing that revenge was only moments away?

"Are you sure you heard what you thought you heard?" he asked Ivan, keeping his voice perfectly level.

"Yes, Master."

"And why did you not tell me this before Anakin had a chance to follow through on his promise?" Obi-Wan asked. Ivan's eyes widened in surprise at the question, and he didn't immediately answer. "You had the opportunity, Padawan," Obi-Wan continued. "You could have pulled me aside at any time while we were all together, formulating the plan."

A flash of anger flitted across Ivan's face. Clearly he had expected criticism to be directed at Anakin, not himself. "No one likes a tattletale," he said, his voice tight. "Would you want to be forever known as the one who got the Chosen One in trouble?"

"You worry far too much about what others think of you, Padawan," Obi-Wan said sternly. "I expect you to do the right things for the right reasons. Your pride will be your downfall, if you do not learn to let go of it."

"Why are you scolding _me_?" Ivan demanded. "I haven't done anything wrong. He's the one, not me!"

"Because I am not Anakin's master, I'm yours," Obi-Wan said sharply. "I have concerns about what happened between then and now to suddenly cure your reluctance to get Anakin in trouble. I expect your motives to be as pure as your actions, Padawan."

Ivan scowled at the floor. "Yes, Master," he said, but his tone was far from submissive.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. "Wait here," he said. "I'm not through with you yet." He crossed over to the door to the cockpit, where Qui-Gon was.

_No one likes a tattletale,_ he thought wearily. But there was nothing for it. If Anakin were his Padawan, he would want to know.

He entered the cockpit and proceeded to tell Qui-Gon what Ivan had said.

Qui-Gon studied the piloting controls for several long minutes. Obi-Wan had no idea what he was thinking.

"Has Ivan ever lied to you before?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

"No."

"Could he be lying now?"

"Oh, I know why he's come forward with it now," Obi-Wan said. "He won't admit it, but he's humiliated that he wasn't paying attention at the end of the fight and got hurt, and he's angry at Anakin for hurting him, and he wants Anakin to be punished. But would he make up the whole story? I don't think so."

"But you're not sure?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. Over the last few months, he had built up a lot of trust with Ivan. It was hard to believe he was capable of a lie of this magnitude. But he was also deeply disappointed in Ivan's anger toward Anakin. It was unexpected in a boy who normally was able to get along with everyone he met, imperfections and all. He had treated Anakin with such compassion when the two had first met.

But that was when Anakin had been eager for Ivan's help and friendship. It was easy to be compassionate to those who needed you. It was far harder for a young Padawan to love someone who made him look bad.

And Anakin's unique talents were bound to make _everyone_ around him look inferior in comparison.

Qui-Gon was still waiting for an answer. Obi-Wan thought back to his conversation with his Padawan. He hadn't detected any falsehood in Ivan, but then again, how well did he know Ivan? Their Force-bond was still so tenuous. Was it possible Ivan could conceal something from him?

"I can't be sure," he admitted at last.

Qui-Gon looked out the main viewport, his face impassive. A long silence settled between them. Obi-Wan had almost decided Qui-Gon had forgotten he was still there in the cockpit, when Qui-Gon looked at him again.

"Would you please ask Anakin to come see me?" he asked.

Ivan was sitting slumped on the deck of the corridor when Obi-Wan emerged from the cockpit, but he quickly jumped to his feet the moment he saw Obi-Wan. "Oh, Master-" he said nervously. Obi-Wan quickly put up a hand to stop him.

"Not yet, Padawan. Just wait."

Obi-Wan found Anakin in the bowels of the ship's engine room, with parts of a spare generator assembly and tools scattered everywhere. Apparently Anakin coped with stress by fixing things. Or dismantling them. It was hard to tell which he had been doing. It looked like chaos to Obi-Wan, and he didn't understand how this kind of atmosphere could possibly soothe anyone. And yet Anakin did look calmer than he had before. There was a looseness to his muscles, an ease to his movements, that had not been there before, on Krayn's landing pad.

Obi-Wan delivered Qui-Gon's summons, and then impulsively added a piece of advice of his own: "Remember what we talked about before, Anakin. Qui-Gon is here to help you, not punish you. You should be as open with him as you can." Anakin simply nodded to indicate he understood, before silently leaving the room.

Obi-Wan returned to the corridor where Ivan was waiting for him.

"Master, please, let me explain," Ivan said jerkily. "Please. I was... confused, earlier, when I came out of the prison. I didn't think Anakin would really do it – kill Krayn, I mean. I thought maybe he was just talking tough to the other slaves, or lying to them so they would help him escape. Or I tried to convince myself of that, because I really didn't want to have to tell on him. I wanted to believe he was better than that. And then he _did_ do it, and I knew I should have told you before, and I was mad at myself for being so stupid. And then I got mad at Anakin for nearly killing me and then I wanted to tell on him. I'm sorry, Master. I know I disappointed you. Please forgive me." Ivan stood with his head down in submission, and this time, Obi-Wan knew he meant it, every word.

"I already have forgiven you, Vanya," Obi-Wan said gently. "Thank you for telling me this. And I hope you will be on your guard from now on. You must be able to recognize these tendencies within yourself, and have the strength to overcome them. You know you can always come to me for guidance."

Ivan nodded. Then abruptly, he flung his arms around Obi-Wan.

Since this had already happened today once before, with Anakin, Obi-Wan was a bit more prepared for it, and it did not take him so long this time to come to his senses and put his arms around Ivan, too.

It didn't feel quite as awkward this time, either. But the boy's shoulders were so slim. His head only came halfway up Obi-Wan's chest.

_He's only a child. Both of them, Anakin and Ivan, only children. We expect so much of children._

Qui-Gon had had the same expectations of him when he was only a child. And Dooku had expected the same of the boy Qui-Gon. Hadn't they turned out fine? Children were more resilient than many thought. But for the first time, Obi-Wan felt uneasy. He had been looking forward to watching Ivan grow in wisdom and experience.

He was not looking forward to watching him lose his innocence.

* * *

><p>"You didn't wait for me to join you before you confronted Krayn," Qui-Gon said.<p>

"No, Master," Anakin said quietly.

"You were not told to confront Krayn at all, either by Obi-Wan or Siri."

"No."

"May I ask what your intentions were when you decided to go after him?"

"I was afraid he would get away," Anakin said. "I wanted justice to be done."

"But what sort of justice were you intending to mete?"

"I... don't understand the question, Master."

"Ivan says you promised the other prisoners that you would see to it Krayn was dead before you left Nar Shaddaa."

Anakin grew paler, but he did not deny it.

"Anakin? Did you mean it?" Qui-Gon prodded.

"I... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I didn't _want_ to kill him!" Anakin said suddenly, forcefully. "Did you think that I did? That I could want that, after what happened on Zonama Sekot? With the Blood Carver? I never, ever, wanted to do that again, to _feel_ that again, to- to feel a life drain away, to know that _I_ was the one, that _I_ was the monster who..." he broke off, unable to continue for a moment.

"But...?"

Anakin shut his eyes tight. "Krayn hurt so many people, Master. He killed many, and he hurt many, many more. So many victims. Their innocent blood cried out for justice." He opened his eyes. "I couldn't think about what it would do to _me_ to be the one to deliver it. It had to be done, and I made myself prepare to be the one to do it, no matter what pain it would cost me."

"You take too much upon yourself, Anakin. You didn't need to make that decision. His capture was all that was required of you."

"If I had thought it could be done safely, Master, I would have, I promise you." Anakin's voice was low and steady. "But I don't see what difference it would have made. If he had been convicted of all the crimes he had committed, he would have been sentenced to death anyway."

"Perhaps. That is not for us to judge. We are Jedi, not vigilantes. The courts would have administered Krayn's punishment."

Bizarrely, Anakin laughed. "The courts?" he repeated in disbelief. "The _courts_? You mean, the courts that just let Nute Gunray go free? After he starved Padmé's people half to death, just to line his own pockets? Everyone knew he did it, his counsel barely even bothered putting up a believable defense for him, but they didn't need to. The bureaucrats managed to worm him through every loophole they could find in the law, and he got away with no more than a slap on the wrist. They didn't even strip him of his position in the Trade Federation. You mean _those_ courts?"

"The system is flawed..." Qui-Gon began quietly.

"The system is broken!"

"The court system is in serious need of reform, yes," Qui-Gon patiently continued, "and despite my frequent railings against the politicians, there are those out there who are trying to fix it, and they may succeed in time. But in the meantime, it does not give the Jedi Order license to be judge, jury and executioner to every criminal we encounter. We operate in partnership with the Republic; we do not supplant it."

"I don't see how we could possibly do worse."

"That is because you are young, Anakin, and you haven't seen enough of the galaxy yet to know how quickly even the most well-meaning people can become corrupt when too much power is placed in their hands. Even the Jedi are not immune to it."

Anakin's shoulders slumped, and he stared dully at the floor. "I just wanted to do the right thing, Master."

"I know you did, Anakin, and it pleases me to see how deep your compassion for Krayn's victims runs. The love for others over self is at the heart of being a Jedi. But you must learn how to apply that compassion properly. Bringing Krayn to justice was a worthy goal, but punishing him does not undo what was done."

"Then we should have caught him quicker, _before_ he hurt so many people. Why didn't the Order go after him years ago?"

"Attempts were made, in the past. But there are fires burning all through the galaxy, Anakin, and we can't put them all out. There are too few of us."

Anakin made a noise of impatience. "What good are we then, if we can't stop people from getting hurt?"

"Sometimes we succeed. Sometimes we don't. But Anakin, you must know by now that suffering is as much a part of this life as joy is. It is not always in our power to prevent it."

"I can't accept that," Anakin said flatly. "I won't."

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "I don't have all the answers, Anakin, but I do know that part of growing up is learning that although we can't control what others do, we _can_ control ourselves. We can't stop the evil, but we can choose how to respond to it. Do we descend into the darkness ourselves? Or do we try to heal it with the light, no matter how futile the endeavor may seem?"

Anakin remained lost in thought for several long minutes.

"You've given me a lot to think about, Master," he said at last. "I will meditate on this."

"Good," Qui-Gon said, and a rare smile touched his lips and deepened the lines around his eyes. He rested a large hand on Anakin's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "You've had a long, hard day, Padawan. Try to get some sleep. You may find that morning will bring a change of perspective."

"Thank you, Master." Anakin bowed low, his face smooth and thoughtful. "Good night."

"Good night."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

><p><em>Author's note<em>: Well, there you are. As predicted, the short chapter was followed by a monstrously long one. Hope you enjoyed it!


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Obi-Wan woke up early the next morning, as was his habit, even though his body was crying out for the extra rest he needed after a long and difficult mission. But he knew from experience that it was no good to try to go back to sleep, so he rose, dressed, and performed his morning meditations. By the end, he felt somewhat refreshed.

He stepped quietly out of his cabin and headed down the dim corridor. The ship was so quiet that he assumed he was the only one awake, but when he reached the galley, the door was ajar and a bar of light flooded the floor. Stepping in, he saw Siri standing with her back to him, looking out the porthole at the flickering light of hyperspace streaming past the ship. She was still dressed in the fur tunic and dark leggings of Zora, but her hair was free of the twisted locks and metal ornamentations of a slaver, instead tumbling loose around her shoulders. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned and saw him. An expression flitted across her face so quickly that he couldn't be sure, but he got the sudden impression that his presence was unwelcome.

"Sorry, were you meditating?" he asked, taking a step backwards toward the door.

"No," Siri said quickly, half-raising a hand as though to stop him from leaving. "No, I was just thinking. Brooding, really. You don't have to go. Do you want some tea?" He saw that she already held a steaming mug in one hand.

"Thank you. That would be wonderful."

Siri stepped over to the teakettle and poured another mug, and then the two of them sat down together at a table and sipped in silence for several minutes.

Finally, Siri spoke. "That's getting to be a beautiful shiner." At Obi-Wan's puzzled expression, she gestured toward him. "Your eye. It's already three different colors. What happened?"

"Oh, yes." Obi-Wan touched the swollen eye self-consciously; he'd forgotten to put bacta salve on it the night before. "Ever fought an enraged Wookiee in hand-to-hand combat inside a turbolift?"

A sly smile crept across Siri's face. "Can't say that I have."

"I don't recommend it."

Siri's laughter pealed out, the sound unexpected and bright in the quiet room. "Didn't I warn you about him? Now you'll have to appear before the Chancellor looking like you've been in a schoolyard fight!"

"The... the Chancellor?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise.

"Yes. When we dropped out of hyperspace during the night to make a course adjustment, we received a message from Dar Wac, his executive assistant. Apparently His Excellency wants to thank us in person for our efforts in restoring law to the spice trade."

Obi-Wan's brow creased slightly. The accomplishment had been important, certainly, but not exactly on the same level of achievement as the business with Naboo nearly two years ago. He would not have thought it worth the Chancellor's time to meet with them himself, now that all was said and done. But there was no sense in arguing with the whims of the most powerful man in the galaxy.

Another silence fell between them, this one longer. Several times it seemed as though Siri was going to speak, but then thought better of it. At last, Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "You look so different," he said. "As Zora, I mean. It's a wonder I recognized you at all."

"Well, that was the point," Siri said, smiling a little at the compliment. "I _was_ undercover. Not that I ever looked that much like a Jedi anyway." Obi-Wan smiled in understanding; Siri had always stood out from the other Jedi due to her habit of wearing a flight suit, rather than the more typical Jedi tunics and robe. "You look different, too," she said to Obi-Wan. "It's the longer hair. It makes you look older."

"Well, that was the point," Obi-Wan quipped back. But rather than smiling, Siri looked distinctly uncomfortable, for no reason that he could fathom.

Silence reigned once more. Left sitting at the table, Obi-Wan was remembering with some discomfort the less-than-warm welcome he'd given Siri when he first found her in Krayn's prison cell. They hadn't had a proper chance yet to talk about it. Steeling himself, Obi-Wan decided to take the direct route and get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Are you very angry with me?" he asked Siri.

"Angry with you?" Siri asked blankly.

"Because of... what I thought you'd done. I've been thinking ill of you for more than a year."

Siri's expression cleared. "Oh. That." Unexpectedly, a soft sound of amusement escaped her throat. "Obi-Wan." She shook her head. "You really are a piece of work sometimes. I have a feeling you've already punished yourself for that more than I ever could."

"I should have had more faith in you," Obi-Wan said, determined to get everything out in the open. "You deserved as much, after everything we've been through."

"You didn't lack faith in me," Siri contradicted. "You just didn't want to assume the best about me, because you were afraid you'd be doing it for all the wrong reasons."

Obi-Wan pondered this, and grudgingly admitted that there was a ring of truth to it. He blew out a breath softly. "I don't know how you do that," he said. "Know things about me that even I don't. I only wish I were half as good at reading your mind. I can't tell at all what you're thinking now. I can tell you're upset, but I can't tell why."

Siri abruptly stood and walked back over to the porthole. "I'm trying to come to a decision," she said, staring out again at the undulating waves of hyperspace flicking past the ship. "And it's tricky, because if I choose wrong…" She stopped. "I don't want to hurt someone, but I'm afraid that no matter what I choose…" she began again, and then stopped.

"It's complicated!" she finished in exasperation. Siri rubbed her face with her hands tiredly. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"No," Obi-Wan said frankly. "Why don't you try starting at the beginning?"

"The beginning," Siri repeated. She sat down across from him again, and after a moment's thought leaned forward with her elbows on the table and meeting Obi-Wan's gaze with her bright blue eyes.

"Do you ever have visions of the future?" she asked.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Sometimes," he answered. "Sometimes when I'm meditating, I try to get a glimpse of what may happen during the course of a mission."

"Ever had one about something... more personal?"

"No. But I never tried. Qui-Gon discouraged trying for that sort of thing, and I actually agreed with him. I think I'd rather not know what lies ahead for me." He laughed nervously. "In case it's something unpleasant."

"But for the visions you _have_ had," Siri persisted. "What do you do about them?"

"Do?"

"Do you try to make it happen, or try to stop it?"

"It depends. Was this a good dream that you had, or a bad one?"

"We were speaking hypothetically."

"Well, then hypothetically speaking, is it good or bad?"

"I haven't decided yet," Siri said slowly.

"Well, first of all, how does this hypothetical dreamer know it was a prophetic vision?" Obi-Wan asked. "Even Jedi dream ordinary dreams."

"Do ordinary dreams come to a Jedi when she's meditating, _trying_ to see the future?" Siri spoke more forcefully. "And then, after she's done something - something that should have killed that future for good - why does it continue to visit her in her sleep? For _years_. It's always exactly the same. And it always comes... at certain times. Under a certain set of circumstances." She offered no details, and Obi-Wan understood he was not supposed to ask.

"Master Yoda says the future is always in motion," he reminded her. "It may not come true, even if it is a vision from the Force."

"Then why does the Force bother to show it to me?" Siri snapped. "What good does it do? Unless I'm meant to _do_ something about it."

"Qui-Gon would agree with that sentiment, I think," Obi-Wan said with a hint of a smile. "He's always saying everything happens for a reason, and he has a tendency to err on the side of action."

"Obi-Wan!" Siri said impatiently. "Stop quoting Jedi wisdom to me! If I wanted to know what Yoda and Qui-Gon thought about it, I would have asked them. I'm asking _you, _Obi-Wan Kenobi. You personally."

"Well, you probably _should_ ask them," Obi-Wan said. "They're much wiser than I am."

"Obi-Wan, this is _important_!" Siri made an exasperated sound and turned away from him. "Never mind. I'm sorry I asked!"

"Wait, Siri. Just wait." He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Here's what I think. If you're not certain whether this event is desirable, maybe the best course for now is to continue to act as you would have before you saw the vision."

"But even inaction is an action-"

"I'm not done yet. If it is the will of the Force that you act, whether to stop the event or facilitate it, I think it will be made clear to you in the critical moment."

"You mean, wait?" Siri looked unhappy. "I hate waiting."

"It's... it's not a very good answer, I know," Obi-Wan said hesitantly.

"No, it is." Siri slumped back down into her chair. "I just didn't want to hear it. You have a tendency to tell me things I don't like to hear, Obi-Wan."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I missed that about you." Siri seemed to struggle for a moment, then continued: "I missed everything about you, actually. Even the annoying things."

"I missed you, too. It's been a long year and a half."

"I wasn't just talking about that," Siri said. "I've been missing you for much longer than that."

They were treading on dangerous ground now, and Obi-Wan knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from saying, "I feel the same way."

"Obi-Wan?" Siri began slowly, deliberately. "You know that thing we don't ever talk about?" At his expression, she quickly added, "I still think we shouldn't talk about it. But I think that-" she took a steadying breath - "I think that I may have overreacted, back then. When I said that... we couldn't be friends anymore. I think I could handle that much... now. But only if you want to." Her eyes were subtly pleading with him.

It was several moments before Obi-Wan could trust his voice enough to speak, but there was only one answer he could give to a request like that from Siri Tachi. "Friends... would be great."

* * *

><p>Once they arrived in Coruscant's crowded skylanes, Anakin piloted the ship deftly to the Republic Executive Building, a dome-shaped building similar to, but smaller than, the nearby Senate Building. The Executive Building housed offices for many of the Senators, as well as the Chancellor's opulent suite at the pinnacle of the dome. Anakin skillfully guided to the ship into the cavernous docking bay, where they disembarked and were met by two Red Guards, who flanked them silently and escorted them through the bay toward the pillared hallways that would take them to the Chancellor. Obi-Wan couldn't help casting several sideways looks toward the guards, who were swathed in floor-length scarlet robes with their faces totally obscured by red helmets. Each of them carried lethal force-pikes resting casually on their shoulders.<p>

Many in the Order were uncomfortable with the very existence of the Red Guard, which Palpatine had created to replace the blue-robed Senate Guard that formerly carried out the duties of protecting the Chancellor. Some, such as Master Windu, felt it was not appropriate for the Chancellor to have what amounted to a small but highly-trained military force who answered to him and him alone. The Chancellor, of course, maintained that the Red Guards were merely bodyguards. Yet no one seemed to know the identity of any of the guards, nor even exactly how many of them there were. Some in the Senate had tried to have the Guard disbanded or at least subjected to Senate oversight, but Palpatine, it seemed, was able to rise above the bureaucratic entanglements that had so hampered Chancellor Valorum, and the issue eventually died in committee.

Obi-Wan glanced to his left and saw that, as always, Qui-Gon's face betrayed nothing – yet he could sense his Master's distaste at their escorts.

The two boys weren't looking at the guards at all; their attention was on the becaped and bejeweled Senators passing them on the left and the right, most of them trailing entourages of smartly dressed aides and security guards and HoloNet reporters. Ivan looked thrilled to be here, and nearly overwhelmed at the pageantry around him, not to mention the anticipation of shortly meeting the most powerful man in the galaxy. Anakin, on the other hand, was affecting a bored expression, and Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps he had been here before. Qui-Gon had indicated that the Chancellor himself had requested his and Anakin's services in escorting the Colicoids through pirate space, and perhaps the meeting had taken place here.

He shot a glance at Siri, expecting to see her looking as unflappable as ever, but was surprised to see her reach down and tug self-consciously at the hem of her fur tunic. The nervous gesture seemed out of character for Siri, who had never been intimidated by those in power; even as a young girl she was more likely to be irritated or amused by them, and he didn't expect her reaction to the Chancellor to be any different.

It was only then, watching her, that he noticed how shockingly out of place Siri looked in these opulent surroundings, still dressed as a rough-and-tumble slaver, and she was accordingly getting many strange looks from the beings they were passing.

Obi-Wan slowed his steps slightly, allowing Qui-Gon and the two boys to get ahead of him, and fell into step with Siri.

"Want to borrow my robe?" he asked her in an undertone.

"Why, what's wrong with what I've got on?" she hissed back.

"Nothing," Obi-Wan said carefully.

"That's right, nothing. As if I care what I look like!"

They had hardly gone another ten steps before Siri made an exasperated sound. "All right, fine. Since it means so much to you, hand it over."

Obi-Wan knew better than to smile as he pulled off his robe and held it out, but unexpectedly she laughed softly as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. "I must have been out of my mind to agree to this," she whispered to him wryly. "I haven't been in civilized company for a year and a half, and now I'm going straight up to meet the Chancellor?"

Obi-Wan fastened the tiny hooks at the top of the robe, so that the rusty brown folds fell down over her slaver gear nicely. The robe fit her almost perfectly, since the two of them were about the same height, although the sleeves were a bit too long. "Good manners are like flying a speeder," he reminded her. "You never forget."

"You're making a rather rash assumption, Obi-Wan." At his questioning look, she continued: "You're assuming I ever had good manners to begin with."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Well, yes, but whenever you embarrass someone, it's because you intend to, not because you forgot the proper forms."

"Yes, that's true," Siri said thoughtfully. "I'll make sure my breach of manners towards Palpatine is completely deliberate, then."

Obi-Wan laughed, but Siri didn't. After an uncomfortable moment, he cleared his throat and asked, "You _are_ joking, right?"

Siri raised an eyebrow coolly, and said nothing.

"Siri..." Obi-Wan began in a warning tone.

"What? It was your idea!"

"Yes, but I certainly didn't mean to _encourage_ you to-"

"No, no, no, you've made the challenge, it can't be revoked now," Siri said seriously. She smoothed her blonde hair and then walked on, quickening her pace to catch up to the others.

"Siri, don't you _dare_—" was all the further Obi-Wan was able to get, when abruptly he realized they were now walking through the blast doors leading to the antechamber of the Chancellor's Suite. Already, Qui-Gon was giving their names to Dar Wac, the Rodian who served as Palpatine's executive assistant.

"Yes, Master Jinn, His Excellency is expecting you," Dar Wac responded, and at a gesture the Red Guards standing in the doorway stepped aside to let them through.

Obi-Wan didn't dare do more than shoot a stern look in Siri's direction as they walked into the suite, but she had plastered a serene expression on her face and wouldn't look at him.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Obi-Wan had been in the Chancellor's Suite before, two years earlier when Chancellor Valorum had briefed Qui-Gon and himself before dispatching them to the Naboo Blockade. The room looked markedly different now. Before, it had been decorated in rich shades of blue and gold. Now the furnishings and trim were a steely gray, in sharp contrast to the broadly curving crimson walls and carpeting. Valorum had favored highly detailed and realistic artwork, but now the room was scattered with sculptures of indistinct hooded figures and an enormous, abstract twist of neuranium that must be worth an unthinkable sum of credits.

The expansive curved window behind the Chancellor's desk, however, still offered an incredible view of Coruscant's urban skyline, and it was in front of this backdrop that Palpatine rose smoothly from his desk and greeted them.

As one, the five of them bowed deeply to the Chancellor.

"Master Jinn, thank you for coming," Palpatine said formally. "And Anakin, my boy!" A warm smile flooded across his face, which Anakin didn't hesitate to return. "It's so good to see you again!"

He turned next to Obi-Wan. "It has been far too long, Master Kenobi," he said sincerely. Obi-Wan was slightly discomfited by how long Palpatine held eye contact with him before moving his gaze to Ivan.

"Your Excellency, this is my Padawan Learner, Ivan Bal-Tova," Obi-Wan said.

"It's good to meet you, child," Palpatine murmured, his eyes sliding dismissively past Ivan and on to Siri. Qui-Gon smoothly picked up the introduction: "May I present Padawan Learner Siri Tachi, who infiltrated Krayn's organization under the direction of her Master, Adi Gallia."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, young lady," Palpatine responded.

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Excellency," Siri said politely, and then continued on blithely: "I like your nude very much."

In the sudden dead silence that followed, Obi-Wan wished the crimson carpet would swallow him up right then and there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Qui-Gon looking perfectly calm as though Siri had done nothing untoward, although after so many joint missions with her, he was familiar with her outrageousness and surely knew she was having fun at everyone else's expense. Anakin was staring at Siri, his mouth slightly agape. On his other side, Obi-Wan could sense Ivan struggling not to laugh.

"I beg your pardon?" Palpatine asked, his face as blank and polite as though he were simply an old man who wasn't quite sure he had heard right.

"Your nude," Siri said brightly, gesturing to a small figurine displayed on the Chancellor's desk. Obi-Wan looked at the statue long enough to ascertain that it did, in fact, depict a nude humanoid form, and felt his pulse start to come down. Perhaps the situation could be salvaged yet.

"Ah yes, one of my favorites," Palpatine said. "This is Wapoe. The Atrisians worship him as a demigod."

"Him?" Siri repeated with raised eyebrows, looking pointedly back at the figurine's decidedly feminine curves.

"Wapoe is the demigod of disguise," Palpatine explained. "The Atrisians believe that whatever form he appears in, you can be sure that what you are seeing is _not_ his true face."

"Fascinating," Siri said.

"Well, I didn't request your presence to bore you with a lesson in mythology," Palpatine said with a pleasant smile. "Please, sit down and allow me to thank you all for the important service you have given to the Republic."

There were only four chairs arranged in front of the expansive desk, and Ivan was left to stand awkwardly behind and to the side of Obi-Wan's chair as Palpatine launched into a typical politician's speech, full of many words and very little meaning. Obi-Wan tried to focus on the words nonetheless, but it was difficult not to be distracted by Siri, who was now only too happy to try to make eye contact with him. Obi-Wan resisted for several minutes, but at last he was forced to accept that Siri would not rest until she had had her little gloat. With a silent sigh, he glanced over at her and saw she wore a mocking little smile, as though to say: _I could have done so much worse, Kenobi_.

And she could have. If there was one thing he knew about Siri, it was that she was capable of almost anything. She had begun to show more self-restraint later in her apprenticeship, but she had still not lost those rough edges that had so exasperated him whenever he was paired with her on a mission.

_I'm in for it now,_ Obi-Wan suddenly realized. _Why did I just agree to be friends with her again, knowing she's going to continually subject me to this sort of thing? What was I thinking?_

Aghast at his own impulsiveness, Obi-Wan frowned disapprovingly at Siri in the hopes that this would chasten her enough to make her behave properly for the rest of their audience with Palpatine.

Disappointingly, the effect of this was to cause Siri to violently restrain a laugh, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand and turned the sound into a cough. Several faces glanced over at her for a moment, then back to the Chancellor.

"… of course, I don't expect the transition to go smoothly," the Chancellor was saying, "but more ships will be sent temporarily to Kessel to ensure the Colicoids comply with all rules and regulations as set forth in the charter established by my predecessor's administration…"

Obi-Wan kept his eyes fixed on the Chancellor's face as he waited for Siri's silent fit of amusement to pass. Kriff it all, she could be exasperating! Siri was a grown adult. Why couldn't she rein in her impulsiveness for a few minutes, just long enough to hold a dignified audience with the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic? Why couldn't she be… well, more like _himself_? He risked a glance at Siri to see if she had calmed herself yet. She locked eyes with him, and to his surprise, he saw that she was perfectly composed.

Then she frowned disapprovingly at him, and her stern expression was so obviously a mockery of his own a few moments ago that Obi-Wan was horrified to feel a sudden spasm of laughter twitch in his chest, like a monster trying to get out.

Quickly he turned his laugh into a polite little cough and felt his cheeks burning as he stared fiercely at the carpet and struggled to control his twitching lips. Kriff it, kriff it, kriff it! Why did he let her do this to him? So much for the legendary Kenobi control. It had been undone in only a few minutes by the childish pranks of one Jedi Padawan named Siri Tachi. Now he wanted nothing more than for this audience to end as quickly as possible so he could find a private place to let the joy come bubbling out freely. He didn't even care about the teasing he'd have to endure from Siri now that she had found a chink in his armor.

And then, in a sudden flash of insight, he understood at last. _This_ was why he had agreed to be friends with her again. Because he didn't merely tolerate her outrageousness – he liked it. Some part of him deep inside admired her for it. Some part of him wished he could be like that, too. But it wasn't who he was. He'd have to settle for enjoying that freedom of manner vicariously. And Force help him the day Siri found out he enjoyed her bad behavior. He'd have no peace from that day forward.

It made him smile just thinking about it.

His mind suddenly clear, Obi-Wan found himself able to concentrate at last on the conversation between Qui-Gon and Palpatine regarding the spice trade, and even make a few contributions of his own. Siri also joined in, her comments full of blunt honesty and wit, but as respectful toward the Chancellor as Obi-Wan could have wished. Siri really could be beautifully polite, when she made up her mind to be.

The time flew by, and at last Chancellor Palpatine rose and thanked them graciously one final time for their service. The five Jedi bowed low and took their leave of him.

Anakin lingered in the suite a little longer than the others, and Palpatine leaned in close to Anakin's ear to murmur something. "Do come and see me soon, my boy," he urged quietly. "I look forward to hearing all about this mission from your unique perspective."

After they exited the antechamber and began walking back through the echoing pillared hall, Qui-Gon paused a moment to turn a mild gaze on Obi-Wan and Siri, and shook his head slowly from side to side.

"_Children_," was all he said, and the gentle remonstrance was plain to hear in his tone. Still, Qui-Gon wasn't bothering to hide a tolerant smile from them, which gave Obi-Wan the courage to immediately quip back: "But Master, she's the one who started it-"

"That is _not_ true!" Siri objected, but just then they were interrupted by Dar Wac as he came trotting down the corridor after them, calling, "Master Kenobi, wait!" The Jedi paused, and waited as Dar Wac caught up to them.

"Master Kenobi, the Chancellor would like to have a word with you in private."

_With me?_ Obi-Wan thought, but out loud he merely said, "Yes, of course," and followed Dar Wac back to the Chancellor's Suite. He glanced back once, and smiled to see Siri grimace at him and ominously draw a finger across her throat. It described perfectly what he was feeling.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Dar Wac escorted Obi-Wan back into the Chancellor's Suite, where Palpatine led Obi-Wan to a small nook with two comfortable chairs set before a low table and urged him to sit down, which Obi-Wan did warily. The Chancellor sat down close by. "Would you like anything, Master Kenobi?" he asked. "Tea, perhaps, or something stronger?"

"No, thank you," Obi-Wan said automatically. Truthfully he could have used a hot drink just then, but he had no intention of permitting even the appearance of cozying up with Palpatine. He'd had far too much experience with politicians; he knew giving an inch would only encourage them to try to take a mile. Palpatine had surely not invited him back in to share a relaxing moment between friends, and the sooner they cut through the niceties and got down to the point, the happier Obi-Wan would be.

Palpatine waved Dar Wac out and laced his fingers together as he regarded Obi-Wan in silence for a moment.

"Master Kenobi," he said at last, leaning forward. "Experience has taught me to expect great things from the Jedi, particularly after the assistance the Order rendered to my home planet of Naboo recently, but you, Master Kenobi, have outdone yourself this time."

The Chancellor seemed to expect a response to this, but all Obi-Wan could manage was a mystified, "Me?"

Palpatine smiled. "Yes, you. I don't know why I was surprised, after witnessing your impressive contributions to the Naboo Blockade situation, but now I see that a young man only scarcely knighted has single-handedly managed to restore law and order to the spice trade. Remarkable. Truly remarkable."

"Thank you for your kind words, Your Excellency," Obi-Wan said quickly, "but it was hardly single-handed. Master Qui-Gon Jinn also took part in the negotiations, and Padawan Skywalker's diversion proved invaluable in persuading the Colicoids. It was a team effort."

"Yes, I expected a loyal man such as yourself to try to deflect praise to his former Master," Palpatine said, "but judging by the reports I read, it's clear that you were, in fact, the lead negotiator when you made your case to the Colicoids."

"...using information Siri Tachi provided to us," Obi-Wan continued earnestly. "It took her more than a year of difficult work and self-sacrifice to build the trust necessary to gather that information. In fact, if anyone deserves a larger portion of praise, it should be her."

"Tachi? A Padawan?"

"I would be very surprised if the Council did not knight her, sir, after an accomplishment like this."

Palpatine smiled again, and the expression was a little too knowing. "They told me you would do this," he said. At Obi-Wan's questioning glance, he continued: "Your colleagues in the Order. They said you were far too modest about your achievements."

Obi-Wan was struggling to find his footing in this unexpected turn in the conversation. "I wasn't aware you had personal contacts among the Jedi, Your Excellency."

"Oh, I'm acquainted with a handful of Jedi," Palpatine said. "For one, the members of the High Council, of course, whom I meet with regularly. I have never heard Master Yoda speak anything but praise of you, and he is not the sort to speak empty words. 'Pure of heart,' I believe, was the phrase he used to describe you.

"And then I've recently had the privilege of getting to know Quinlan Vos, who I understand is a particular friend of yours from your apprenticeship. He said he's never had a more loyal friend.

"I also have acquaintance with several members of the Old Guard. They agree you are already distinguishing yourself as an outstanding negotiator, and it is their belief that one day you will number among their rank."

Obi-Wan could hardly disguise his astonishment. While the Old Guard was not a formally organized group within the Jedi Order, it was generally known that it was a society of former and current members of the Council, plus a handful of Masters who were believed to be destined to sit on the Council one day. Qui-Gon, with all his unorthodoxy and his refusal to toe the lines the Council tried to draw around him, had never been invited into the ranks of the Old Guard. This fact had always rankled Obi-Wan, who, despite his disagreements with Qui-Gon, had eventually come to see the genius behind the recklessness and knew Qui-Gon deserved it.

Palpatine leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Well, after hearing all this, you can hardly expect me to believe you when you say you are owed no credit for the success of this mission."

"And yet I must insist, Your Excellency, that Siri Tachi is the one most responsible for that success," Obi-Wan contradicted as politely as he could. "I merely had the fortune to... well, sail in at the last moment and capitalize on the groundwork she laid down."

"Tachi," Palpatine murmured, and a slight frown furrowed his brow. "Are you well acquainted with her?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "I've known her since I was a boy."

"Ah. Childhood friends."

"Friends," Obi-Wan repeated softly, and all at once he realized the volume of bittersweetness contained in that single word. Sweetness, because he knew the emptiness of an existence in which he was denied that friendship. Bitterness, because if circumstances could have been different, he might have used another word to describe her, one far more intimate. Abruptly, the conflicting emotions swept over him and he fought to keep them from showing on his face. He desperately wished he had accepted the offered tea, if only to have something in his hands, something to distract him, something to hold between himself and Palpatine to make him feel less exposed. _Friends!_ Yes, they were friends, with a vengeance.

But long habit enabled Obi-Wan to exercise his mental discipline and regain control quickly. He smoothed his face and met Palpatine's gaze firmly, confident that the man had missed that little byplay. But he knew he must be careful not to let it happen again. As a politician, Palpatine must be adept at reading nonverbal cues, even if he couldn't sense another's emotions in the Force.

"She certainly is spirited," Palpatine was saying. "And uncommonly pretty," he added, after another moment's thought. He looked at Obi-Wan significantly. "Wouldn't you agree, Master Kenobi?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan murmured. "Siri has always been... spirited."

"Well," Palpatine said after a moment's silence, "despite all your prowess as a negotiator, Master Kenobi, you have failed to convince me that you are not a rising star in the Jedi Order. Please let me assure you that as Chancellor, I will see to it that you will be given every possible opportunity to excel in your service to the Republic." He rose to his feet, and Obi-Wan followed suit. "If you are ever in need of assistance, my door is open to you anytime you like, if only to talk things over with me. Just contact Dar Wac, and he will see to it that a space is cleared in my schedule."

"That is a very generous offer, Your Excellency. I know how valuable your time is." Obi-Wan bowed politely.

"I look forward to seeing you again, then."

Outside the Chancellor's Suite, Obi-Wan permitted himself a long, deep sigh. By the Force, he hated politicians. Well... hate was a strong word. Better to say he intensely disliked them.

The other Jedi were nowhere to be seen. Guessing they had already returned to the hangar bay, Obi-Wan made his way there. He found Siri and Qui-Gon waiting for him at the foot of the embarking ramp. Ivan and Anakin were presumably already on board.

"So," Siri said. "I see he didn't eat you alive. What did he want?"

Obi-Wan was in no mood to recount the whole uncomfortable conversation, so he chose to answer Siri as flippantly as she had asked him. "He wanted to talk about you, actually. He thinks you're attractive."

Siri rolled her eyes. "If you didn't want to answer, Kenobi, you could have just said that." She turned and stalked up the embarking ramp, leaving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan alone.

Qui-Gon said nothing, but Obi-Wan could read the question in his eyes.

"Apparently, the Chancellor called me back to flatter me," he told Qui-Gon.

"He wants something from you," Qui-Gon said immediately.

"Of course he does, but he never got around to saying _what_," Obi-Wan said wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a headache beginning to pound in his temples as though he had just done battle with a rancor, when all he had done was sit down to have a polite conversation.

"Be wary, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly. "Remember, he's a politician-"

"-and he's not to be trusted," Obi-Wan finished. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten that particular lesson."

"This one even less than other politicians, perhaps," Qui-Gon said, and there was a faint line of worry on his brow. "Palpatine seems to have an unnatural fascination with my Padawans."

"Anakin too, then?"

"Yes. Palpatine has taken him under his wing."

"Well, I trust you've also warned Anakin to be cautious."

"Yes, but I'm not sure Anakin knows the meaning of caution. He tends to assume that anyone friendly to him is as well-intentioned as Anakin himself is. He seems to think of Palpatine as a kindly old uncle, no matter what I say to the contrary about some of the man's more questionable actions as a senator and as Chancellor."

Obi-Wan thought about this. "You could forbid Anakin from going to see him," he said reluctantly.

"Tempting, but Anakin doesn't respond well to heavy-handedness. I'm beginning to learn that he's the type of student who can't simply take someone's word for it on anything - he must always be testing, finding out for himself. He has a streak of independence in him that can't be tamed." Qui-Gon sighed. "No, I think the wisest course is to let him find out for himself what Palpatine is. Sooner or later, the Chancellor will tip his hand, and Anakin will have learned a painful, but valuable, lesson on trusting politicians."

"And there is always the possibility that Palpatine is as well-intentioned as he seems," Obi-Wan felt compelled to point out, for the sake of being fair. "After all, Anakin has a deeper innate connection to the Force than we do. Perhaps he senses something we don't."

"Perhaps," Qui-Gon murmured.

* * *

><p>"Then it was you alone who brought Krayn to justice," Chancellor Palpatine said in tones of delight. "My dear boy! A remarkable achievement indeed!"<p>

Anakin glowed at the compliment, but a moment later his conscience forced him to add reluctantly, "Well, I guess Ivan helped a little."

"After you had already deprived Krayn of his blaster. And it was you who delivered the killing blow. All on your own initiative, without the help or even the supervision of your Master. Anakin, you truly are a wonder. Master Jinn must have been very pleased with your triumph."

Anakin flushed again, but this time for a different reason. He fiddled with his teacup for a moment. "Not exactly," he admitted.

"Not?" Palpatine repeated, startled enough to pause mid-sip.

Anakin shrugged. "He wasn't very happy about the way I did it. He said I should have just captured Krayn."

Palpatine was incredulous. "Surely that would have been too dangerous to attempt, with a cold-blooded killer like Krayn." He put his teacup down on the saucer decisively. "And certainly the slaver deserved death, after everything he'd done to advance the cause of slavery in the galaxy."

"That's what I said!" Anakin said, feeling a flood of relief that he hadn't been entirely off the mark, after all.

"And your Master disagreed with that assessment, did he?" Palpatine said neutrally.

Anakin didn't like the implied criticism of Qui-Gon. "He didn't exactly disagree," he said defensively. "Qui-Gon is one of the greatest Masters in the Order, and he thinks it isn't the place of the Jedi to deliver judgment and death unless it's absolutely necessary. He always says it's difficult to control your anger in the heat of the moment." His shoulders slumped, and all at once his bravado deflated. "I guess he's right. That's what happened to me on Zonama Sekot, when I..."

"...killed the Blood Carver," Palpatine finished gently. "Yes, I remember what you told me about that. So it was the same when you killed Krayn?"

Anakin thought for a long moment. "Not really," he said slowly, unable to suppress a tone of surprise at the discovery. Palpatine had a way of asking him questions he never thought to ask of himself. "No, it wasn't the same at all. With the Blood Carver, I felt hot. Out of control. Like something was acting through me, almost against my will. But with Krayn, I felt cool and calm. I knew exactly what I was doing, and why. I felt..."

"Powerful."

"Yes," Anakin said slowly. "Powerful."

"It seems to me," Palpatine said thoughtfully, "that with the Blood Carver, you permitted your anger to control you. But with Krayn, you controlled your anger. You were the master of it. You are making excellent progress, my boy."

"But I'm not supposed to be angry at all!" Anakin cried in a tone of despair. "I'm a Jedi! I'm supposed to be better than that!"

"Yes, I understand the Jedi have long preached against the dangers of anger. Perhaps the rules are different for you. I know little of the Force, so I couldn't say. But for the rest of us ordinary folk, righteous anger is a powerful tool. It gives us focus. It makes us strong."

"Do _you_ get angry, sir?" Anakin asked timidly.

"Yes, of course. I can't begin to tell you how angry I was when the Neimoidians interfered in the affairs of my homeworld. That anger helped me find the strength to be elected Chancellor and expel them from the system. What's wrong, my boy?"

"Nothing," Anakin said. "Nothing. I'm just... confused, that's all. You've given me a lot to think about."

"You look tired, Anakin. I've kept you here too long." Palpatine rested a friendly hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Go home and get some rest, my boy. We'll talk about this again some other time, I have no doubt."

"Home," Anakin murmured, and the first image that flashed through his mind was not of the Temple's cold, austere hallways, but of the cramped hovel on Tatooine he had shared with his mother, and for an instant he seemed to see as though across a great distance his mother's gentle smile and warm, welcoming arms held out to him, and he shuddered.

That wasn't home anymore. Coruscant was home. Qui-Gon was home. That was the choice he had made. He had chosen his destiny over his family. It had been the right choice, even if it wasn't the most comfortable one.

Wasn't it?

Anakin rose to his feet wearily. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, Your Excellency," he said, bowing to the Chancellor.

Palpatine chuckled lightly. "Qui-Gon has taught you good manners, Anakin, but you need not be so formal with me. We are friends, are we not?"

Anakin smiled impulsively at the Chancellor, feeling a warm glow at his words. When others looked at him, he knew they saw a Jedi Padawan, someone to be respected or even feared, but deep inside he often felt as though he were a fraud, that if they knew they were looking at a boy who once was a slave bound by poverty and despair, they would never take him seriously. It was incredible to him that Palpatine, in his position as the most powerful man in the galaxy, could give Anakin such praise and attentions even though he knew Anakin's humiliating history.

_He knows exactly who and what I am,_ Anakin thought, _and still he accepts me. I will never be able to repay him for such a gift._

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

_**[A selection of hologram recording transcripts in the Jedi Temple Archives, spanning 3 standard years]**_

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLM781<strong>

**Origin: Coruscant **

**Destination: The **_**Solipsis**_

**Sender: TACHI, Siri**

Obi-Wan,

It seems silly to be recording a hologram for you when I said goodbye to you less than a week ago, but I'm afraid I've gone and done something rather rash, and I wanted you to be one of the first to know. Hopefully you'll get this message as soon as you emerge from hyperspace.

Remember how you predicted I would be bored out of my mind within a few days of coming home to the Temple? Well, you were right. At least my Knighting was interesting, and so was the party in Nova Lounge afterwards. By the way, you have a fabulous singing voice. How is it I've known you this long and never once heard you sing before this? Anyway, then Adi left for Weerden, and my friend Mallie left for Taanab, and you and Ivan left for Andalia, and the Council wouldn't give me an assignment right away because they wanted me to "decompress" after the Krayn mission, whatever that means. So after a few days I decided to cope with the boredom by watching the younger students practice lightsaber combat.

Obi-Wan, it was the weirdest thing... I can't even explain. When the class started, I had the vague idea that it would be nice to have a Padawan of my own someday. By the time the class ended... I had already picked him out.

I know you're going to be disappointed when you get this message, because I didn't do the sensible thing at all. I didn't think it over, or meditate, or try to get to know him better. I just walked over and asked him to be my Padawan. You should have seen the look on his face. But I think I was more shocked than he was when he actually said yes.

So... I'm a Master now. Surprise! I can't wait for you to meet him. I think you'll like him. His name is Ferus Olin and he's a lot like you, too kriffing serious for his own good. I'll try to train that out of him as quickly as possible. Maybe I'll have better luck with him than I've had with you.

Well, enjoy your little outing on Andalia. I heard the wind never stops blowing there. Sounds like a good time.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLM822<strong>

**Origin: Andalia**

**Destination: Coruscant**

**Sender: KENOBI, Obi-Wan**

Siri,

We've arrived at Andalia and yes, the wind hasn't stopped blowing since the moment we disembarked from the _Solipsis_. On the bright side, we hardly noticed the wind at first, since we were distracted by all the blaster bolts whizzing around the landing platform. Oh, don't worry, they weren't aiming at us. That's just business as usual around here, apparently. Nothing like a blaster to settle every petty argument that arises. We're planning to deliver the Senate's message to the planetary delegation tomorrow, and I just hope everyone leaves their firearms at home for the occasion.

And so it's Master Tachi now. Congratulations. By my calculations, you were a mere Knight for less than a week before you took on a Padawan. That must be some kind of record. And I was very surprised, Siri, but not disappointed, I promise you. If you felt it was right to ask Ferus, then I am confident you did the right thing. You'll make a wonderful Master. I remember when we were in combat class together, how you would help the younger ones along, and you always seemed to know just the right thing to say to them to help them understand the lesson better. Ferus is a lucky Padawan.

I just hope he gives you less trouble than Ivan is giving me right now. I discovered on the journey here that the boy is a terrible flirt. And by terrible, I don't mean he's bad at it, I mean he's _good_ at it. Too good. Every adolescent girl on the ship was fawning over him by the time we landed. I tried glaring at him but he didn't even seem to notice. Later I tried to give him the "attachments are forbidden" lecture, and he looked at me like I'd sprouted another arm. He claimed he wasn't flirting at all, just "being friendly." But why is he only being friendly to the girls? That's what I'd like to know.

I'm going to try to keep him busy while we're here by giving him an extra assignment. I want him to try to figure out how Qui-Gon's river stone works. It seems clear now that when I was boy it did somehow channel the Force and help me save my memories when the Syndicat tried to perform a wind-wipe on me. Now it seems to have saved Ivan's life by stopping Anakin's blade on Nar Shaddaa. But what triggered the power of the stone at that moment, when it went for years without doing anything at all? Maybe Ivan can figure out how to activate its power.

Well, I better get some rest so I can be sharp in the morning. Enjoy your new Padawan, and may the Force be with you.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLS231<strong>

**Origin: The **_**Threnody Fire**_

**Destination: Ragoon VI**

**Sender: SKYWALKER, Anakin**

Obi-Wan,

Guess what? I just found out you have a sense of humor. I didn't think you did, but Qui-Gon says you do, you just have to really pay attention to figure out when you're joking. I wish I'd known that before. I was starting to think there was something wrong with you!

I wish we could have followed you to Ragoon VI. It would have been fun to train with you. I think I like joint missions better than the ones with just me and Qui-Gon. It seems like I'm always getting into trouble when it's just him and me. But the Radnor mission was great, with you and Siri there too. I think even Master Qui-Gon was almost enjoying himself some of the time, and he didn't lecture me so much with you around.

Qui-Gon and I are on our way to the Hoth system now. We're supposed to track down the _Radiant IX_, a Consular-class ship cruiser that went missing on its way back to Coruscant. The ship was supposed to bring a couple of Knights back to the Temple because they fell to the Dark Side and the Council was going to try them.

I don't think Qui-Gon is looking forward to this mission. I don't think I am, either. I don't like to think of Jedi going bad. I just can't understand why anyone would ever turn their backs on their own people like that. The Chancellor says it's because I know what loyalty is, unlike most other people in the galaxy. He says I know instinctively who my real friends are. The Chancellor is a good man, isn't he? I know you get to see him sometimes, too. Even though he's a politician, he's always thinking of others and not himself. Did you know, he doesn't even care if he gets re-elected? He says he's just going to do whatever he thinks is right and not even think about what happens to him at the end of his term.

Uh-oh - I hear Qui-Gon calling me. I'll talk to you later, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLS239<strong>

**Origin: Ragoon VI**

**Destination: The **_**Threnody Fire**_

**Sender: KENOBI, Obi-Wan**

Anakin,

Yes, I agree, the joint missions are nice for a change. I used to feel so awkward, in the beginning of my apprenticeship, to be alone with Qui-Gon for days and weeks at a time. But I came to look forward to those quiet times when I had his attention all to myself, even if he did lecture me a bit, and I think in time, you will too. Now that I'm a Master, I've discovered that it's easier to teach Ivan one on one when there are no distractions around, so maybe Qui-Gon feels the same about you.

It sounds as though you've been seeing Chancellor Palpatine quite a bit. Master Yoda thinks it may be useful to keep up good relations with him, so with his permission I've had several meetings with the Chancellor myself recently. Palpatine does seem to be a sincere and well-intentioned man. But I must warn you, Anakin - most politicians are masters at _seeming_ to be trustworthy. It doesn't always follow that they are. I know you have good instincts about people, but please be careful. Instincts can lead you astray. I've observed that Palpatine is very clever at following the passions and prejudices of the Senators, which a cynic would say places him in the perfect position to be re-elected, no matter what he may say about not aiming to serve another term.

Good luck in tracking down the _Radiant IX._ I know I'm not entirely comfortable with the situation myself. But be assured that the Council will give the wayward Knights a fair trial, and it may be that they will be permitted to remain in the Order if their offenses were not too serious and they are willing to resume following the Code. Those on the Council whom I know personally are capable of great mercy.

Tell Qui-Gon hello from me. We all may see each other again soon. When I spoke with Master Yoda after the Radnor debriefing, he mentioned that he thought Qui-Gon and Siri and I made a good team, so perhaps we will share another mission sometime. May the Force be with you.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLT004<strong>

**Origin: Euceron**

**Destination: Coruscant**

**Sender: JINN, Qui-Gon**

Obi-Wan,

I'm sending this transmission to Coruscant because Siri told me you were given extended leave at the Temple while Ivan received some specialized training from the Healers in the Circle. To be chosen for this by the Circle is a great honor for him. How is he progressing otherwise? The last time I saw him I was impressed by his poise and presence. I can see his skills are growing, with your guidance.

Anakin and I have completed our mission to Euceron to keep the peace during the Galactic Games. Siri and Ferus joined us, and between the four of us we were able to head off a potential catastrophe, but I admit to feeling uneasy about the mission as a whole. Anakin and Ferus get along together like oil and water, and their inability to work past their conflicting personalities nearly spelled disaster for the mission at one point. I've spoken to Anakin about this several times, and I know Siri has spoken to Ferus, but the two of them seem incapable of working together. They are determined to prove each other wrong at every possible opportunity.

I'm telling you this because I'm hoping you might have some insight into the rivalry and how we might undo it. Anakin and Ivan seemed to be developing a similar problem after the Nar Shaddaa mission, but lately the two of them have forged a tentative peace, at least enough so they can work together. I'm hoping Anakin can do the same with Ferus. They have much they could learn from each other, if they were willing.

We'll be boarding the _Shadowed Rift_ in a few hours. I hope to hear from you soon. May the Force be with you.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLT007<strong>

**Origin: Coruscant**

**Destination: The Shadowed Rift**

**Sender: KENOBI, Obi-Wan**

Qui-Gon,

Thank you for inquiring after Ivan; he is enjoying his time training with the Healers in the Circle and his teachers say he is making great progress. The boy is a born healer, although he still has much to learn. I've also been working with him in the evenings on negotiation theory. He shows some promise in that area as well, and he certainly studies hard and is eager to please.

I'm afraid he isn't making as much progress in combat training as I'd like to see. He may make a solid fighter someday, if he would only put his heart into it the way he does his healer training. Sometimes he is so utterly absorbed in healing that it's hard to get him to focus on other things. Lately he's been engrossed in trying to solve the puzzle that is your river stone. He's been taking it with him on his rounds to the patients in the Healers Wing, and trying to use it to help them with their various ailments. As far as he can tell, nothing has come of it. It seems certain the stone has some sort of healing or protective power, but we are both at a loss as to how to tap into it. We can't even identify the common factors in the two incidents that did activate the stone: the time I was nearly mind-wiped, and then again when Anakin almost stabbed Ivan. We'll have to continue to put some thought in it. If you have any insights of your own, I would be glad to hear them.

I've been giving some thought to the problems between Ferus and Anakin you mentioned. I myself noticed the conflict during our last joint mission with Siri, but I hesitated to get involved since I don't have stewardship over either one of them. I'm not sure the situation between Ivan and Anakin is similar, however. It's been my observation that my Padawan and yours have fairly compatible personalities. After the two of them had their falling-out at Nar Shaddaa, I don't think they ever really spoke to each other and worked out the issues, but they both seem to have decided to forget the incident and go on as if nothing ever happened. And I think it's worked out fairly well for them. As you say, Ivan and Anakin are at least able to work together peaceably.

Ferus, on the other hand, loves order. That's a tendency I can certainly sympathize with. But we both know that Anakin has a tendency to throw order to the wind. Ferus seems to have a hard time letting things like that go. He wants everyone to be as careful about the rules as he is, and he's not about to back down just because Anakin has his own ideas about how the galaxy should work, which don't always fall in line with how the Order has been doing things for thousands of years.

I wish I could give you good advice about how to help the two of them to get along, but the only thing I feel sure about is that you should _not_ take steps to keep the two of them separated. You and I know that the Force wills for Anakin to be the Chosen One. If that happens, Anakin will be a leader in the Order, perhaps even _the_ leader, and if so he will need to have learned how to negotiate with Jedi like Ferus, who love orthodoxy. There is certainly no shortage of them in the Order. Better that he learn those skills now, when he is still young and his style of leadership is still being molded.

Good luck on your mission to Ord Lithone. I spoke with Master Gallia yesterday and she had no doubts that you would be able to track down the droid manufacturers. She has as much confidence in your abilities as I do. May the Force be with you.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLT007<strong>

**Origin: Coruscant**

**Destination: Hallitron-7**

**Sender: TACHI, Siri**

Obi-Wan,

I had a reply all planned out to answer your last transmission. It was a really good one, very witty and entertaining, and I was going to insult you several times. You would have liked it. But now I can't remember a word of it.

I... don't even know where to begin. I guess I might as well cut straight to the point. Ferus has left the Order.

I'm not joking. I only wish I were. You know not much is sacred to me, but I couldn't have joked about that.

I know the first question that's on your lips. Why? Why did he leave? Believe me when I say that's the first question, and the only question, that's been on my mind since he told me his intentions. And he wouldn't tell me. I've utterly failed as his Master, and he couldn't even tell me _why_. Only that he felt he wasn't fit to be a Jedi anymore.

All I know is that this mission ended disastrously in more ways than one. One of our team was killed: Master Antana's Padawan, Darra Thel-Tanis. She was very young, even younger than Ferus. We tracked down Granta Omega on Korriban, and when the fighting started he shot her. Anakin and Ferus were with her, but from what Anakin said there was nothing they could do. We managed to bring Omega down eventually, but it was too late for Darra.

We were all shaken up by it. It's always bad enough to lose a member of your team, but when it's a Padawan, especially one so young...

None of us could talk much on the way back to Coruscant, and when we got home to the Temple Ferus just packed up his things and told me he was leaving the Order. Nothing I said could make him change his mind. He wouldn't explain what made him reach that decision. He just gave me his lightsaber and left.

I wish I could say that he'll probably change his mind and come back in a few days when he's had a chance to cool down and think things over, but somehow I know he won't. He was never the reckless type. He won't come back, Obi-Wan, and I don't even know where he went.

I don't even know what to do with myself. I'm completely adrift. Master Yoda says I need to stay in the Temple and meditate. I can't meditate. I tried, but it just made me want to throw things at the windows.

Why couldn't he tell me why he left?

Anyway... Obi-Wan, just do me a favor and delete this as soon as you watch it. I don't want this saved for posterity, if you catch my meaning. I have a feeling I'm going to start hating myself very soon and I don't need any more reminders of my faults. I already know them inside and out.

Sorry to dump all this on you.

**[End transmission]**

* * *

><p><strong>Hologram Transcript: Jedi Temple Archive Code 9XLT008<strong>

**Origin: Hallitron-7**

**Destination: Coruscant**

**Sender: KENOBI, Obi-Wan**

Oh Siri, I'm so sorry. I know how deeply you care for Ferus. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to say goodbye to him, especially under such circumstances.

But from everything I saw, you were an outstanding Master to him, and you must not call this your failure. Ferus' decision was his own. He's 16 years old, old enough to understand what he is doing. Perhaps his reasons will become more clear in time. He was a gifted young man, and good down to his core. The missions I shared with Ferus, and you, all stand out to me as some of the most enjoyable I've known. I know I will miss him.

I won't pretend to understand everything you're feeling right now, and I won't insult you by trying to give you advice. Just know that I will be thinking of you constantly.

Siri... I know my words are profoundly inadequate. I wish I could be there to talk to you in person. Contact me anytime you need to.

**[End transmission]**

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Obi-Wan leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped on the table, lips moving silently as he read the words scrolling across his datapad. Every once in a while, his eyes flicked up to look at the chrono on the wall. Forgotten, his toast and tea sat on the table untouched and growing cold.

Preoccupied as he was, Obi-Wan didn't even notice the perpetual noise and bustle of the Temple refectory as Jedi filed in, helped themselves to the various types of food available around the perimeter of the room and then found tables to sit at, all the while chatting animatedly with their friends and colleagues and students.

Nor did he notice, at first, when someone started calling his name from several tables away. He had just started to tap at the datapad to make some changes to the text when he finally registered the voice as someone approached him.

"_Obi-Wan_."

Obi-Wan glanced up. "Qui-Gon!" he said in surprise, putting down the datapad and getting to his feet. "I didn't know you were here in the Temple."

"I just arrived," Qui-Gon said, putting his hand briefly on Obi-Wan's shoulder in greeting. "Am I interrupting something important?" he added, glancing at the datapad.

"Not really. I was just timing a lecture I was asked to give. 'How to spot hidden agendas during negotiations,'" Obi-Wan said, moving the datapad to the side and gesturing for Qui-Gon to have a seat.

"Since when do you give lectures?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I've been asked to give one or two each time I've returned to the Temple, for the last... oh, three years or so. They started asking me not long after I took Ivan as Padawan."

"I'm sorry I've missed them." Qui-Gon took off his robe and draped it over the back of his chair; it was rather warm in the refectory. "I didn't expect to see you here. Didn't you get some leave time just a month ago?"

"Yes. We were sent back out on a mission, but just as we were wrapping things up, Ivan fell ill and I brought him back here to have the Healers look after him."

Qui-Gon looked concerned. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Bakuran fever. It can be dangerous, but he's over the worst of it now. I think he's actually glad he got sick. He says now that he's seen the Healers Wing from the patient's point of view, he'll know how to give better care. What are you doing here?"

"Anakin was asked to help test a few alterations to the Delta-6 starfighter they're developing. Once he's had a few days to familiarize himself with the changes to the engines and weapons systems, he's supposed to take one out to the test range near Albecus and give it a spin."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Well, that should make him happy."

"It should," Qui-Gon said. "I'm not sure it will."

"Why, what's wrong?"

Qui-Gon glanced around the noisy refectory. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Yes, of course."

"I've been meaning to discuss this with you anyway," Qui-Gon said. "I'm worried about Anakin."

Qui-Gon looked down for a moment, studying his hands where they rested on the table. Obi-Wan waited patiently.

"He's been having dreams," Qui-Gon said. "Dreams about his mother."

"Bad ones?"

"Good and bad. Some are just memories of Shmi, from their life together on Tatooine. Memories of happy times. Some are more... frightening. He'll dream that she's starving, or that Watto's been mistreating her, or that she's been hurt in a speeder accident."

"And are these dreams real?" Obi-Wan asked. "Or are they just Anakin's fears, rising to the surface of his mind as he sleeps?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "There's no way to know. All I know is that the dreams are causing him a great deal of distress. It's affecting his training."

"Have you tried teaching him Master Di's meditation routines? If he could clear his mind more fully every night before bed, perhaps..."

"We tried that," Qui-Gon said. "It doesn't seem to be working. We've tried quite a lot of things, actually." He sighed. "Besides, I already know the problem is not his dreams... it's that he's thinking and worrying about his mother too much. If he knew his mother was somewhere safe, he wouldn't need to worry about her, awake or asleep."

Obi-Wan nodded understandingly. "The galaxy is a dangerous place, and Tatooine seems to be especially so. But I suppose there's nothing to be done about it. For better or worse, it's Shmi's home."

"Oh, there's something we could do, all right," Qui-Gon said. "I've been trying to persuade the Council to let me free her and bring her here."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "And they said no, I presume?"

"You presume correctly." Qui-Gon paused a moment. "Do you agree with that decision?"

"Well, it _is_ against the Code for students to be in contact with their families," Obi-Wan replied.

"And why is that?" Qui-Gon was watching him closely.

"Because it would be a distraction from their training."

Qui-Gon leaned forward with his eyes intent on Obi-Wan's. "But Anakin's _already_ distracted. Unlike all the other students here, he actually remembers his mother. He misses her, constantly. If Shmi were in a safe place, somewhere he could see her and talk to her from time to time, he wouldn't be distracted anymore. It would facilitate his training, not derail it."

"I suppose it's possible..." Obi-Wan said doubtfully. "But what effect would Shmi's presence have on Anakin? Most students come to put their whole reliance on their Master. It's an important part of their training. Wouldn't introducing another authority figure undermine his bond with you?"

"I don't think so." Qui-Gon stroked his beard slowly, thoughtfully. "There's something about Anakin you need to understand. He was raised by a woman alone. He… misses the female. I can see it in him, both on missions and here at the Temple. Sometimes women can reach him in ways that I can't. Thracia Cho Leem. Jabitha. Padme Amidala. I have a strong bond with Anakin – we have trust, we have affection – but I don't think it's enough. To have the steady presence of a woman in his life just might make all the difference."

"Are you certain, though, that Shmi would be an asset to Anakin's training? I hate to bring it up, but I'm sure you haven't forgotten the effect Crion had on Xanatos at a critical point of his training."

Qui-Gon was already shaking his head. "If you had met Shmi, you wouldn't need to ask that. She is nothing like Crion. To begin with, she had no hesitation in giving up her son to me, although Anakin was very nearly her whole world. She has faith in the mission of the Jedi Order that Crion never had. The morals she instilled in Anakin before he came to me run a close parallel to Jedi teachings - self-sacrifice for the greater good, fairness, mercy, patience. There is no artifice in her. She is exactly what she appears to be - a loving mother, nothing more or less. And in any case, she has nothing to offer Anakin that could draw him away from the Order. No power or money to entice him, as Xanatos was enticed."

Obi-Wan couldn't resist the urge to play devil's advocate. "But Master, if Anakin is allowed to see his mother based on arguments like that, it opens the door to any number of other students wanting to see their families too, based on the same reasons. How are we to judge whether a particular family has 'morals similar to the Order's' or whether they are poor enough or powerless enough to not pose a threat to their child's training? Who is going to decide that, and what would give us the right? What would you say to the students who did _not_ receive permission to see their families? It would create divisions and bad feelings and... and chaos, really."

"So we should just avoid the whole mess by refusing contact for everyone, even those who could benefit from it? One size doesn't fit all, you know."

"Yes, but recklessly throwing around exceptions to every rule doesn't really work either, you know," Obi-Wan shot back.

"I'm not being reckless. I happen to think the Order would do well to rethink its policy of isolating its students. Anakin isn't the only one who would benefit."

Obi-Wan nearly choked on his toast. "Are you actually saying you want to talk the Council into reversing a policy that's been in place for 800 years?"

"One thing at a time," Qui-Gon said. "For now, I would be content with earning an exception for Anakin. Tackling the policy itself, that's something to think about long-term."

"How can you say that?" Obi-Wan said in dismay. "After what happened-" He stopped.

"Go on," Qui-Gon said.

"I don't want to hurt you," Obi-Wan said.

"Nothing you say can hurt me, Obi-Wan. I believe you were going to say, 'after what happened to Xanatos?'"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said slowly.

"Look." Qui-Gon leaned forward, elbows on the table. "There was exactly one person responsible for Xanatos' fall. That person was Xanatos. Not Crion, not me. Himself alone. It took me a long time to understand this, but now I see the truth of it. Xani was an adult. He was intelligent. He had been given all the proper teachings. Sometimes I was clumsy in the delivery of them, perhaps, but he had the basics of a good, moral code given to him. He chose to ignore them. He _chose_ it. And yes, in the end it was his father who pushed Xanatos over the edge, but it could just as easily have happened in another time, another place. The seeds of his rebellion had already been sown for years prior. And he is hardly the only Jedi to fall in the last millennia. What's the sense in denying every single Jedi student a loving family, when the policy can't even protect them from what it's _designed_ to protect them from? There will always be Jedi who fall, whether or not they have families. The one does not necessarily lead to the other."

Obi-Wan was shocked into silence. He had never thought of it in quite that way before. Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair and waited patiently as Obi-Wan rolled these new ideas around and around in his head.

"Did you say all this to the Council?" Obi-Wan finally asked.

"I tried to phrase it a bit more diplomatically," Qui-Gon said. "But in essence, yes."

"And they said?"

"Everything you just said. About it not being fair to the other students. About the potential to make Anakin's problems worse. They've been concerned about his attachment to his mother since the moment they first questioned him."

Obi-Wan blew out a slow breath. "Well, I can certainly sympathize with their reasoning. But I have to admit, you've made some good points." He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands absent-mindedly through his hair. "I suppose the Code has been bent from time to time, when the circumstances warranted it. But the Council won't hear of it in this case?"

"No." Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "And I think I know why. I've defied their wishes so many times. Over the years I've asked for so many exceptions to the rules that I've become a bit of a joke to some of them. Taking Anakin as my Padawan without their approval was the last straw, in their minds. I think now they just say no to me reflexively."

"I'm not sure you're being entirely fair to them..." Obi-Wan began, but quickly held up a hand to fend off Qui-Gon's retort. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. What about Master Yoda? What does he think of it?"

"I'm not sure. He never says much when I bring it up. But you know how it is on the Council. They don't like to make decisions of that magnitude unless they have full consensus. Even if Master Yoda is open to the idea, nothing will happen until all the Council members are persuaded."

Obi-Wan knew he was right, at least about the way the Council operated. Waiting for unanimity in the Council meant that change was slow to come in the Order, but when it did come, it came with perfect unity among its leaders. Still, his mind was racing with the possibilities. "But even if you do persuade them it's the right thing to do, there's still the small problem of _how_ to buy Shmi's freedom," he pointed out. "Senate rules forbid the use of Republic funds to buy slaves. You don't want to bring the wrath of all the slaving systems down upon the Republic if they find out a Jedi interfered on their turf. We've got enough problems within the Republic without starting a war outside of it. Not to mention, our own rules-"

"-forbid giving an initiate's family any kind of monetary compensation for their child, or even the appearance of it," Qui-Gon finished. "Yes, I've already heard all this from the Council. I'm certain a solution could be found, if they would put their minds to it. But I haven't even got that far with them."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I only have one idea, at the moment," Qui-Gon said. "If I can persuade just one person - someone the Council members respect, someone known for sticking to the rules - to throw their support behind me, then it would give some weight to my arguments. Then they'd see that even someone who respects orthodoxy can see the benefits of bending the rules in this case."

"Interesting idea," Obi-Wan said. "Master Windu could be a powerful ally. Have you tried talking to him one-on-one yet?"

Qui-Gon stared at him a moment, and then chuckled. "I wasn't talking about Master Windu, my brilliant little ex-Padawan. I was talking about _you_."

"Me?" Obi-Wan laughed too, for another reason entirely. "You don't really think they'd listen to me, do you?"

"I think they would."

"But..." Obi-Wan shook his head. "I can't even think of any arguments you haven't already tried with them."

"I told you, I don't think there's anything wrong with the arguments I've used. It's _me_ they don't like. I'm sure they remember perfectly well all the conflicts you and I had over rule-bending. All those blasted minority reports you used to give them after our missions..." Qui-Gon fixed a mock scowl on Obi-Wan momentarily, and Obi-Wan smiled apologetically.

Qui-Gon continued: "My point is, if they see that I was able to bring even you around, they may be willing to give a little more thought to the problem."

Obi-Wan looked down at his now-cold tea, picked up a spoon, and stirred it without really thinking about what he was doing. A long silence fell between them.

Obi-Wan was thinking. It never would have occurred to him, had he been in Qui-Gon's place, to undertake such a task. Whenever he came up against a rule that didn't suit him, he usually concentrated on what he could change within himself to make obedience to it more bearable. More humility. More patience. Thinking up creative ways to complete the task he was set while still remaining within the bounds that were set for him. But that wasn't Qui-Gon's way. "Detours must be taken when encountered," he was fond of saying, "and if you are the one who stands at the crossroads, you must never leave it to another to act in your place."

Anakin was Qui-Gon's responsibility, and if anyone knew what Anakin needed most, it would be him. When it came down to it, Obi-Wan slowly realized, it was about trust. Did he trust Qui-Gon's judgment in this case? Despite his long frustration with Qui-Gon's tendency to fight against the Council's restraints, he had to admit Qui-Gon had never done it frivolously. Or selfishly. Always, it had been Qui-Gon's way of championing some cause, or some person, he felt deserved special consideration. And who was Obi-Wan to judge him for that? Hadn't Qui-Gon argued for Obi-Wan himself, back when he was on probation for the Melida-Daan incident? Having been on the receiving end of Qui-Gon's unusual brand of compassion, how could he deny the same to Anakin?

Finally, Qui-Gon prompted him: "Well? Will you do it?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'll try." At the look on Qui-Gon's face, he quickly amended: "All right, all right. I won't try, I'll do. Happy now?"

"Yes. Or at least, the closest I've ever come to happiness."

They both laughed.

"Why do I let you talk me into these things?" Obi-Wan asked with a wry smile.

"You probably shouldn't, but I'm not complaining. Let's form our plan of action."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Apologies for the long hiatus. This chapter was very challenging for me to write for some reason, and then for the last month my beautiful baby decided to stop sleeping at night. Let me tell you, nothing kills mental capacity faster than persistent sleep deprivation. Things have been improving the last week (knock on wood!), so here's the next update, and I hope it's up to snuff. I'd love your feedback (and thanks to for the new review procedure - I love it!).

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan prepared carefully for their presentation to the Council. When they had put forth all their arguments, and the Council members had had the opportunity to question them and clarify certain points, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were sent from the chambers while the Council deliberated in private, a surprising move. When Qui-Gon had made his previous requests to have Shmi freed, the Council had given him an immediate denial. Members of the Council often communed silently with one another through the Force while in session, making it possible for them to make certain decisions quickly. That the Council now wished to have a more full discussion, in private, could only be a good sign. This time, there must be more division of opinion among them.

The wait ended up lasting several hours, and Ostar-Gal, assistant to the Council, called up dinner for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan so they could eat without leaving the tower. No other Jedi came into the chambers to await an appointment with the Council during that time, and Obi-Wan guessed with some amusement that the Council must have scheduled a large block of time as soon as they saw Qui-Gon's name on the roster. It seemed they had learned from previous experience.

The sun had set and the cityscape outside had blazed to life with artificial light before the door to the chambers slid open again and Master Windu's voice called the two of them back inside. As one, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan faced Masters Yoda and Windu, the two senior members, to hear the Council's decision.

"The Council has reached agreement," Master Windu said, "on several fronts. First, we all feel that giving Shmi Skywalker her freedom is a worthy goal. That she is deserving of freedom is not in question. We owe much of the success of the Naboo mission to her cooperation in permitting Anakin to help you get your ship repaired and off Tatooine."

Qui-Gon's face lit up. "Then-"

"On the matter of Anakin's attachment to his mother, and the effect of her presence on him during his training," Master Windu forged on, "we are less certain. Most of us, however, now feel that the potential benefits outweigh the risks."

Qui-Gon waited this time, but Obi-Wan could sense his inward excitement threatening to boil over. Already Master Windu had conceded more than the Council had in his previous attempts. That could only mean...

"However," Windu said.

Qui-Gon's shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Of course there would be a "however."

Yoda spoke up at last. "But grant your request, we cannot."

Qui-Gon stared at Yoda, disappointment spreading across his face. "No?" he said in disbelief. "How can that be your answer?"

"Ask for a great deal, you do, Qui-Gon! Ask us to break the Code, you do. And to break Republic law, yes. Impossible, this is. Agree to it the Council cannot."

"But you've agreed that freeing Shmi is the right thing to do. Which is more important? To keep to the Code, or to do what's right?" Qui-Gon asked vehemently.

"Mutually exclusive, they are not," Yoda said.

"Surely all of you can see the need for a little flexibility!" Qui-Gon burst out, his blue eyes accusing each Council member in turn.

"We considered your request very carefully, Qui-Gon," Master Windu cut in, with more than a little steel in his voice. "We are not unsympathetic to your request, or to your Padawan's well-being, but you must understand that there are more things at stake here than Anakin's emotional state. The life of a Jedi is a hard one, full of sacrifices, which Anakin knew when he chose to come with you. He is strong. If he is any kind of Jedi at all he will learn to adapt, as we all did. As we all _do_."

Qui-Gon was growing more agitated by the moment. "This isn't just about Anakin. With all due respect, Masters, leaving Shmi on Tatooine is as good as a death sentence!"

Master Windu leaned forward with savagely furrowed brow and took in a sharp breath as if to deliver a verbal tongue-lashing to Qui-Gon for questioning the Council's compassion, but Obi-Wan quickly pre-empted it by stepping forward and putting a restraining hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. He leaned his head in close to Qui-Gon's and spoke rapidly in a low voice designed for Qui-Gon's ear alone. "Their decision is already made, Master. Arguing about it after the fact isn't going to help. You're the one who taught _me_ that." He glanced down, saw that Qui-Gon's fist, clenched against his thigh, was trembling with barely restrained emotion. "Don't say anything you'll regret later," he added quietly.

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. Obi-Wan held his breath.

Finally, Qui-Gon nodded, and slowly his large hands relaxed. Obi-Wan took a cautious step back. The Masters around the circle were watching them with troubled expressions.

"Thank you for your consideration," Qui-Gon said to the Council, and if the words were a bit stiff, at least they weren't full of venom.

Stunned by defeat, they left the chambers. Master Saldith and his Padawan, Sha Koon, were waiting in the antechamber, and at a nod from Ostar-Gal the pair went into the Council chambers. The door slid shut behind them with a depressing finality.

Qui-Gon didn't say a word, but wearily plodded out to the balcony and stared unseeingly out at the lines of speeders flying past. After a moment, Obi-Wan followed him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It looks like I wasn't any help to you after all."

Qui-Gon turned to face him. "No, you were," he said in a resigned tone. "The fact that they deliberated so long this time tells me you gave them something to debate, at least. It must have been a close thing."

"They did seem sympathetic to the situation," Obi-Wan said, although at this point he knew it was cold comfort.

"They're being completely unreasonable," Qui-Gon said flatly.

"I wonder if they would be open to some type of compromise," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully.

"Such as?" Qui-Gon was skeptical.

"What if we found a way to give Shmi access to a subspace transceiver? Then at least she and Anakin could stay in contact."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "The moment Watto found out what she had, he'd sell it, or lose it in some foolish bet." He picked a loose chip of stone off the railing and threw it off the balcony with a sharp gesture. The rock vanished from sight in seconds as it began its miles-long fall to the underlevels of Coruscant. "We're running out of time!" Qui-Gon burst out suddenly. "You realize, don't you, that Watto could sell her at any moment he chooses? That we could lose track of her for good? We need to get her off Tatooine. The sooner the better!"

"Well, maybe we can come up with something else," Obi-Wan said placatingly. "My point is, I don't think you need to give up just yet."

"You're right about that," Qui-Gon said darkly. "This isn't over yet."

Obi-Wan leaned against the railing and stared at the airspeeders zipping back and forth across the sky. " 'Mutually exclusive, they are not,' " he repeated Yoda's words in a soft murmur. "I think he was trying to tell us something, Qui-Gon. There _must_ be some solution. Some way we can do what's right without breaking the Code. Don't you think?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer.

"Don't you agree?" Obi-Wan repeated, turning to face Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon was gone. Startled, Obi-Wan looked back just in time to see the edge of Qui-Gon's robe disappear through the doors to the Council chambers.

"Stars' end!" Obi-Wan said in exasperation.

But he hardly hesitated. In a few quick strides he passed Oster-Gal, seated behind his desk and looking rather startled, and followed Qui-Gon back into the chambers.

Qui-Gon had just brushed between Master Saldith and Sha Koon to stand in front of the Council again. "Excuse me," he said to them brusquely, "but we still have business to discuss."

The two were taken aback, but at a nod from Master Yoda they turned around and left the Council chambers, shooting odd looks at Obi-Wan, who hung back by the door.

The Council members were silent, waiting for Qui-Gon to speak. A few, like Mace Windu, looked annoyed, but to Obi-Wan's surprise, several seemed to be trying to hide amusement, especially Ki-Adi-Mundi and Adi Gallia. Master Yoda was completely unreadable.

"More to say, have you, Qui-Gon?" the diminutive Master said patiently. "Given you our answer, we have."

"That's not good enough, "Qui-Gon said flatly. "With all due respect, Masters, I will not take no for an answer."

"Unwise, that would be," Yoda said neutrally.

Obi-Wan crossed to the middle of the room in four strides and tugged vigorously on Qui-Gon's sleeve. Qui-Gon shot a look at Obi-Wan that was both bewildered and annoyed.

It was extremely inconvenient not to be able to communicate with Qui-Gon silently, now that they no longer had a training bond. Obi-Wan was forced to settle for having a conversation with him via body language, since Qui-Gon's glare was clearly saying to him, I'm not giving up that easily, so don't even ask.

Stop beating a dead bantha, Obi-Wan's tightly pressed lips said to Qui-Gon.

Persistence is a virtue, said Qui-Gon's raised eyebrow.

Obi-Wan's incredulous expression pointed out that irritating people is not an effective persuasion tactic.

Well, what do you suggest? Qui-Gon's outspread hands demanded.

We need to work smarter, not harder, Obi-Wan's furrowed brows said. Stop. Use the Force. _Think_.

Qui-Gon was still for a long moment, then he shrugged ever so slightly. All right, you win.

_I _won an argument with _you_? Obi-Wan's shocked expression said, but Qui-Gon didn't see because he was already striding back out the door, leaving Obi-Wan standing awkwardly in front of the Council by himself.

"Oh," he said to them. "Um, excuse us, please."

Qui-Gon was waiting for him in the antechamber. Master Saldith and Sha Koon were there too, shooting Qui-Gon wary looks, but at a gesture from Oster-Gal, they went back into the chambers to attempt to give their report for the second time.

"This had better be good," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan. "I was just about to let them have it."

"Yes, I noticed," Obi-Wan said patiently. "Look, Qui-Gon, if you want to berate the Council on your own time, be my guest. But if you want my help, I insist on doing something sensible."

"Such as?"

Obi-Wan stammered a bit. "Uh," he said. "Well..."

He was rescued by the door to the Council chambers sliding open and Yoda hobbling out.

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said politely.

"Master Qui-Gon. Young Kenobi." Yoda's voice was grave. "Join me for tea in my quarters, you should, when finished, the Council's session is. Notify you, Ostar-Gal will."

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said. "We'll be there." What else was there to say?

Yoda harrumphed a bit, and then slowly hobbled back into the Council chambers. The faint sound of Master Saldith's voice floated out for a moment, and then was cut off when the door slid shut once again.

"You were saying?" Qui-Gon said.

"I was?" Obi-Wan asked, momentarily confused.

"You were about to suggest something sensible we could do."

"Oh, right," Obi-Wan shrugged nonchalantly. "I was going to say, why not have tea with Master Yoda?"

"Of course you were," Qui-Gon said, straight-faced.

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. "I feel like I'm about to report for punishment," he said.

Qui-Gon grimaced. "Tea with Master Yoda isn't punishment. If he was serving stew, however..."

They both enjoyed a much-needed laugh.

Yoda's quarters ought to have felt claustrophobic to humans, with low ceilings and low furnishings and a strong smoky scent thick in the air, thanks to the pot of incense burning in the little gas-log fireplace in the corner. All the furnishings, from the meditation platform to the diminutive bed to the round table with its matching chairs, were made of carved wood and were crowded together to fit into the small space. The whole place had a sense of permanence about it unlike any of the other personal quarters in the Temple that Obi-Wan had visited, as though all the furniture had stood there in the same place for so many centuries that one simply couldn't imagine them anywhere else.

And yet, it didn't feel cramped at all. On the contrary, there was an open, free feeling here that had more to do with the tenor of the Force than the physical condition of the room. The entire Jedi Temple sat upon a Force nexus, it was true, but it felt as though much of that power was concentrated right here in Yoda's quarters, where the Jedi Grandmaster had spent so many centuries channeling the Force during his meditations. Here, the Force was all rushing movement and clean light.

Yoda invited Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in graciously when they knocked, and had them sit - or more like it, crouch - at the tiny table while he busied himself pouring them cups of hot yarba tea. He moved slowly, managing the kettle one-handed as he clutched his gimer cane for support with his other hand, but he refused their offers of help.

"My guests, you are, and helpless I am not," Yoda said good-naturedly. "Sit, sit, and I will serve you. Yes."

When the three of them were settled in with their cups of tea, they sat in silence for some time. It was late, and there were no windows in Yoda's quarters. The light was dim. Obi-Wan felt a sort of pleasant weariness in his bones as he sipped his tea, but his senses were wide awake. He glanced at Qui-Gon and saw that he, too, seemed much more relaxed than he was in the antechamber earlier. Yoda's presence was working its magic.

"A lack of compassion, no one can accuse you of," Yoda said to Qui-Gon at last. "Pleased I am to see it. At the heart of being a Jedi, compassion is."

"However?" Qui-Gon said, and irony twisted his lips.

Yoda sighed. "Already know my answer, you do. An equal dose of common sense, I wish you had."

"How am I being nonsensical?" Qui-Gon said. "It's pretty clear to me. Discover the right thing to do and then do it. What else matters?"

"Explain it, Obi-Wan will."

"I will? Oh." Startled, Obi-Wan put down his teacup and cleared his throat nervously, feeling like an initiate being asked to recite in front of a class. "Well, I'll try. In an ideal galaxy, maybe it would be that simple. But we don't live in an ideal galaxy. The Order exists because the Jedi are stronger cooperating as a group, rather than scattering ourselves around the galaxy and acting alone. We pool talents and resources and share information and wisdom. And because we are a group, it is necessary that we behave as one. We all agree on certain core philosophies so there won't be contention and chaos. That's why the Code was written. It holds us together." He glanced at Yoda for confirmation that he was on the right track.

"Yes," Yoda said. "Create exceptions to the Code, we cannot do lightly. Justified, they sometimes are. But cautious we must be, and slow to make change."

"So if we wish to end the practice of separating initiates from their families..." Qui-Gon said.

"Not only consensus in the Council, we need," Yoda said. "Agreement within much in the Order, we require. With time, and teaching, and persuasion, convince many you could. When ready, the Order is, change the Code the Council may."

"Be that as it may, Anakin doesn't have the luxury of time," Qui-Gon said. "He's at a critical point in his training now. What you're talking about could take decades to accomplish. A lifetime."

Yoda nodded solemnly.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Sorrow darkened his eyes. "Then we've asked the Council for something they can't grant. If you give an exception to Anakin, there would be an uproar. Many would see it as giving special treatment to him because he may be the Chosen One. They would be wrong, but the dispute would threaten the unity of the Order. And with the re-emergence of the Sith, we can't afford to be distracted by internal conflicts. The Order must stand together. We must be ready for what is to come."

"Then I can't win," Qui-Gon said. He hunched over, resting his elbows on the low table and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Anakin _needs_ this, and I can't give it to him." His tone had shifted from frustration to resignation.

Obi-Wan's heart ached to see Qui-Gon so thoroughly defeated, but he was also feeling a touch of relief, which confused him until he realized that all through this ordeal he had harbored a certain secret fear than Qui-Gon really _would_ refuse to take no for an answer, that perhaps this conflict with the Council, coming last in a long line of them, would finally push his former Master over the edge and into the ranks of Gray Jedi: Those who chose to forsake the Code and the company of their peers in the Order in favor of acting independently, striving to answer to the will of the Force alone rather than to any mortal authority figure. Some in the Order already thought of Qui-Gon as a Gray Jedi, but Obi-Wan knew better. Qui-Gon's loyalty to the Order was genuine, although he had never let it stop him from telling the Council exactly what he thought of their decisions, good or bad.

Master Yoda put his clawed three-fingered hand gently on Qui-Gon's forearm. "Unfortunate, the situation is," he said. "To see Shmi Skywalker free would please us all. A benefit to Padawan Skywalker's training, it could be. On this, the Council is in agreement."

"And I can't give it to him," Qui-Gon repeated numbly.

"Give it to him, the Council cannot," Yoda said in agreement. Or _was_ he agreeing? Was it Obi-Wan's imagination, or had the old Jedi Master put an ever-so-slight emphasis on the word _council_?

Qui-Gon dropped his hands down onto the table helplessly. "You tell me, then, Master. What am I supposed to do?"

"Easier it is to say what you cannot do," Yoda replied cryptically. "Buy a slave with Republic funds, you cannot."

Qui-Gon was silent, staring at his hands where they rested on the table, but suddenly Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in intense concentration.

"So what you're saying is... we can't buy her with Republic funds?" Obi-Wan said slowly.

Yoda looked at him and blinked his enormous eyes slowly. "Correct, you are," he said.

Obi-Wan hesitated. "Does that mean we could buy her with... with _non_-Republic funds?" Qui-Gon looked up from the table, his eyes suddenly alert.

"Know nothing about such things, I do," Yoda said with a grunt, getting to his feet with an effort and carrying the empty teapot to the sink. "Interested in knowing about such things, I am not."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exchanged an incredulous look.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "What else _can't_ we do, Master Yoda?" he asked casually.

"And bring Shmi to the Temple, you cannot," Yoda said, emphasizing the words with a tap of his gimer cane on the floor.

Obi-Wan felt a thrill shoot down his spine, but managed to keep his voice steady. "We understand perfectly, Master."

"Glad to see it, I am," Yoda said in equally calm tones.

Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon and was bemused to see his former master looking as though someone had just stopped him on the street and given him a handful of durindfire gems. "Master Yoda," Qui-Gon began, and then had to pause for a moment to collect himself. "Master, how can I ever thank you for-"

Yoda cut him off with a gesture. "Unnecessary, your thanks are. Done nothing, I have." He nodded decisively. "Now. Finished with this topic, we are, hmmm? Speak to me of it no more."

"We won't take any more of your time, then, Master," Obi-Wan said, pushing back his chair. Qui-Gon was already on his feet and half-turned toward the door in his eagerness to leave.

Yoda hobbled toward the door and opened it for them. "Tired, you both look," the old master said as they bowed in farewell to him. "Overworked you are, hmmm? Take some time off, you should."

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said. "We would be grateful."

"Go, then," Yoda said. "Take a transport from our hangar, you should, if wish to travel you do."

"Thank you, Master. You're very kind," Obi-Wan said.

"May the Force be with you," Yoda said, chivvying them out the door.

Once they stood out in the corridor alone, Qui-Gon rounded on Obi-Wan and seized both his shoulders in his strong hands.

"Did you hear that?" he practically shouted, shaking Obi-Wan in his excitement. "I never would have believed it... I _don't_ believe it... did he really mean what I _thought_ he did?"

"Master, you're babbling," Obi-Wan said, trying to disengage himself from Qui-Gon without much success, partly because he was laughing too hard. "Master Yoda just left you an enormous loophole, if that's what you mean."

Qui-Gon finally let go of Obi-Wan and impatiently pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped its tie.

"I never could have done it without you, Obi-Wan," he said, growing a bit more serious. "You didn't have to help. It wasn't your fight. Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Obi-Wan said quickly. "It never would have occurred to me to even try such a thing, if you hadn't asked."

"_Somebody_ has to let me thank them," Qui-Gon said with a grin.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "If you must."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, slapping Obi-Wan's shoulder good-naturedly. Obi-Wan smiled back, and they turned and began walking down the corridor.

"And now," Qui-Gon said, "all we have to do is figure out how to get the funds ourselves."

"And find a safe place for Shmi to live. And do it all quietly. We don't want to create bad feelings among the other initiates."

Qui-Gon was jubilant, a mood Obi-Wan rarely saw in him. "I'm sure we can come up with something."

"Are you going to tell Anakin right away?"

"No. I don't want to get his hopes up in case something goes wrong," Qui-Gon said. "We'll surprise him, once everything's arranged."

"So where are we going to get that much money?" Obi-Wan said. From what he'd heard, slaves didn't come cheap in the Outer Rim, and Jedi of course didn't draw personal wages, since the Code required them to shun materialism.

"I already have an idea about that," Qui-Gon said. He rubbed his beard absentmindedly as they walked. "I just hope she remembers her debt."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Ivan whistled between his teeth admiringly as they strolled down the central boulevard leading to the Theed Palace. "Nice place. I wouldn't mind living here."

Looking around him, Obi-Wan had to agree. The architects and landscape designers of Naboo's capital city had managed to achieve what few other places had, in his estimation: to combine luxuriousness with good taste. Everywhere you looked, there were graceful lines in marble and granite, softened by the skillful incorporation of living plants, green and flowered, tucked into nooks, spilling off balconies and climbing up walls, all of which left a pleasant scent in the summer air as they strolled along the paved boulevard. A wide green river flowed languidly to their right. Statues of weathered stone guarded the residences they passed to their left. The general impression the city of Theed made on its visitors was one of understated beauty, rather than ostentation.

Obi-Wan glanced over at his Padawan. Now 16, Ivan had shot up this year and was very nearly Obi-Wan's height now. Obi-Wan had the uneasy feeling that if Ivan continued at this rate, the Master would soon be shorter than the Padawan.

Still, Ivan's gains in inches hadn't been matched by gains in pounds, leaving him looking all angles and corners. It didn't help that he'd been ill recently, either; he still bore dark shadows under his eyes from the long slow weeks of recovery. He'd only just been cleared by the Healers to resume combat training, albeit at a slower pace for a while.

But nothing could dampen Ivan's enthusiasm for visiting new places and meeting new people. His eyes were bright with interest as he studied the people they passed. Citizens of Theed moving in both directions walked slowly on the cobbled stones, the better to enjoy their surroundings, and they stopped frequently to greet acquaintances they saw. Many of them were headed for the Theed Palace, which dominated the view ahead of them. A sprawling stone structure, the palace towered over all the other buildings, a harmonious blend of green-topped domes and turrets and colonnades. Citizens in flowing clothing were walking into the various entrances, watched over by the red-uniformed palace guards posted at each door.

Side by side, Obi-Wan and Ivan crossed the Palace Plaza and climbed the broad steps up to the main entrance, and, after a quick consultation with the attendant in the spacious lobby, were directed down a pillared hall, up a flight of marble stairs and into a cavernous waiting room. Bright sunlight came through the floor-to-ceiling window and striped the elegant furniture arranged in small groupings around the room. They paused a moment to admire the enormous painting that dominated the far wall. It depicted Queen Amidala, looking older than her age in an elaborate dress and headdress, complete with the traditional white-painted face.

Ivan looked up at it in silence for a long moment. "She's pretty," he said at last. "And I bet she'd be even prettier without all the paint."

Obi-Wan looked at him sideways. "Don't do it," he said.

Ivan couldn't hide a small smile from touching his lips. "Don't do what?" he said innocently.

"Don't you dare flirt with her. Please remember that she's the queen of a planet, and that we're here on business."

"Not _official_ business," Ivan reminded him with a grin.

"That's right. Don't make me regret bringing you. I could have left you at the Temple, you know, for the duration of my leave."

"If I'd stayed there one more day, I would have gone crazy with boredom. Besides, I really want to see Anakin's face when he sees his mom again. He's going to be over the moons."

"Don't count the eggs before they're hatched," Obi-Wan reminded him.

"If you say so," Ivan said. "Not to change the subject, but Master, can you _please_ put your hood down now? It isn't detracting attention, it's drawing it."

He had a point; some of the others in the waiting room kept glancing at them curiously. Not only were the two of them the only ones in the room wearing somber shades of brown and white rather than the rich colors the people of Naboo seemed to favor, but Obi-Wan was the only person who had his face covered.

"Trust me, I'd attract even more attention if I did that," Obi-Wan replied.

"Oh come on, it's been how many years since you've been here? Five? Six? Do you really think anyone would still recognize you?"

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and inclined his head toward the opposite wall. Ivan turned and looked at it. Two life-sized portraits hung on either side of the window, facing the portrait of the Queen. One was of Qui-Gon Jinn. The other was of Obi-Wan, looking much as he did now, except with a short Padawan haircut.

"… Oh," Ivan said.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?" Obi-Wan said.

They approached the desk where a dark-haired handmaiden dressed in a flowing gown of olive-green velvet was processing visitors. They'd agreed beforehand that Ivan would do the talking, so Obi-Wan hung back a bit.

"Can I help you?" the handmaiden asked them politely when their turn came.

It was Rabé; although she had changed somewhat since he had last seen her, Obi-Wan recognized her instantly by her darker complexion and the unusual accent that marked her as a native of Naboo's distant Southern Reaches.

"Oh, I think you can," Ivan said in a low voice, leaning his elbows on the counter and giving Rabé his best coy smile.

Rabé looked surprised for a moment, but then she hesitantly smiled back at him. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I guess we'd better _start_ with business," Ivan said, pretending great reluctance, and Obi-Wan ground his teeth in annoyance. "We're here to see the Queen."

"I see. Do you have an appointment?" Rabé asked, although she undoubtably knew they didn't.

"We're members of the Mining Guild," Ivan said. "We need to speak with the Queen about the legislation that was just passed regarding environmental restrictions on opening new areas for mining."

"The Queen already met with representatives of the Mining Guild," Rabé said. "Earlier this morning."

"We represent a minority view," Ivan said. "We weren't given a place in the delegation, but we have some information we need to bring to the Queen's attention. If we could have just a few minutes with her …"

Rabé was already shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but the Queen is on a very strict schedule and any meetings need to be scheduled in advance."

"Yes, of course. Tell me- What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't." She hesitated, then shrugged. "It's Rabé."

"Rabé," Ivan murmured, looking directly into her eyes. "Yes, that suits you. Rabé. Tell me, Rabé, does the Queen trust your judgment?"

"I…" Rabé's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but after studying Ivan for a moment, her expression cleared and she lifted her chin a bit. "Yes, of course she does."

"Then I have no doubt she trusts your judgment enough to let you make an exception to that little rule," Ivan said smoothly. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Rabé began to look a little flustered. "Well... of course I agree, and I'd like to help you, but I'm not sure if I should...?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Obi-Wan sighed, losing patience with the charade, and stepped forward, pushing his hood back just enough to let her see his face. "We would appreciate any help you could give us," he said quietly.

Rabé got her first good luck at him, and her jaw dropped open slightly as her eyes darted between his face and his portrait on the wall behind him. To her credit, she recovered quickly, adopting a businesslike attitude.

"I can't make any promises, but I will see what I can do," she said formally. "Please excuse me." And with that, she slipped out the room.

When she was gone, Obi-Wan turned to glare at Ivan.

"What?" Ivan exclaimed.

"You know what!"

"You said don't flirt with the Queen. You didn't say anything about handmaidens."

Obi-Wan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Flirting isn't against the Code, you know," Ivan pointed out.

"Maybe it ought to be," Obi-Wan said.

"You don't really mean that, Master."

Obi-Wan softened a bit. "Perhaps not. I just want to… spare you grief. You know that, right?"

"I don't mean anything by it, Master. I'm just having a little fun."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. "You don't know yet how quickly a little fun and flirting can turn into…" He shook his head. "Just be careful, Padawan. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Ivan opened his mouth and then hesitated, as if debating whether it was proper for him to ask his Master for further clarification, but Obi-Wan pre-empted this by adding, "And besides, might I point out that she is 20 years old and you are only 16?"

"I'm very mature for my age, you know," Ivan answered, slipping back into his former flippant tone. Then he was struck by a sudden thought. "Hold on, Master. How is it that you know exactly how old she is?"

"Because I was stuck on a ship on Tatooine with her and some of the other handmaidens for days, and we had nothing better to do than talk to each other. I can even tell you that her favorite card game is Crash or Fly and her biggest pet peeve is people who talk too loudly into their comlinks."

"Stuck on a ship for days with a bunch of pretty girls, and all you did was play cards with them, huh?" Ivan teased.

Obi-Wan sighed again. "Might I point out that at that time, Rabé was 15 and I was 25? If you're too young for her, I'm too old for her."

"Uh-huh." Ivan did not sound convinced, but just then Rabé reappeared through the door and approached them.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, but the Queen is unable to adjust her schedule today," she said in tones of polite regret. "Why don't you contact Yané and set up an appointment for some other day?" Neither of them missed the subtle wink she gave them as she spoke.

"I understand. Thank you for trying," Obi-Wan said, bowing politely to her.

"You can take the east exit," Rabé said, pointing to a door opposite from where they had entered.

"Thanks anyway," Ivan said. "And by the way, you look fabulous. I really like that dangly jewelry thingy in your hair…"

Obi-Wan seized Ivan's arm and steered him firmly toward the door, leaving Rabé laughing quietly behind them.

They hadn't gone far along the deserted corridor when a door, designed to blend seamlessly into the wall, opened and a young blond woman in an identical olive green dress poked her head out and beckoned to them silently. Eirtae, Obi-Wan remembered. She gave a warm smile of recognition to Obi-Wan, and her eyes flicked over to Ivan with curiosity as they approached.

Once through the door, they found themselves in a long, narrow corridor. "This way," Eirtae said as she led them down to the end and gestured for them to precede her into an elegant sitting room, complete with ornately carved chairs arranged around a low table.

"Please make yourselves comfortable," she told them. "Queen Amidala is in a meeting with her advisers right now, but she will join you as soon as she is able. Would you like some refreshment while you wait?"

"Yes, thank you," Obi-Wan replied, and within a few minutes of Eirtae's departure an older woman and a well-maintained little droid arrived to serve them tea and cakes. The woman had beautiful manners and was solicitous in getting them whatever they wanted, not to mention she had the amusing habit of addressing the droid as if it were human, a trait Obi-Wan had noticed in Captain Panaka - and Padmé herself - during the Trade Federation crisis. Perhaps it was a common attitude among the Naboo.

"There's something about this place, these people," Ivan said thoughtfully half an hour later as he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied air, having eaten far more than was good for him. "They're just so… so…"

"Civilized," Obi-Wan finished for him.

"The ultimate in compliments, coming from you," Ivan said, grinning.

The woman and the droid came back in the room just then and began to efficiently clear away the dishes. It was only a few minutes after she left again that the double doors swung open and two handmaidens entered – Eirtae again, with another girl Obi-Wan didn't recognize – and took up their positions on either side of the door. Obi-Wan got to his feet just as Queen Amidala herself entered. Beside him, Ivan did the same.

Although she didn't look any taller than Obi-Wan remembered her, Queen Amidala made a striking figure nonetheless. Her petite frame was draped with a rich purple gown that fell to the floor in graceful folds, contrasting with long bell-shaped sleeves and a sash in the same velvety olive green fabric her handmaidens were dressed in. A golden headdress fit snugly over the top of her head, leaving shiny wings of smooth dark hair visible on the sides as they met and twined into a soft knot at the nape of her neck. As before, her face and neck were painted white with small red beauty dots on either cheek, and the distinctive painted crimson split in her lower lip that signified eternal remembrance of Naboo's less-than-peaceful days long ago.

Obi-Wan caught himself studying her face carefully, to ascertain that it was Padmé Amidala he was looking at and not a decoy, but apparently there were no security concerns today. She was subtly different from the last time he saw her; her face reflected more maturity, and the gown was slightly fitted to show curves she hadn't had before, but it really was her. As one, he and Ivan bowed to her.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," she said, moving forward and clasping his hand in hers. "It has been far too long. What a pleasant surprise." Her voice, although formal and measured, nevertheless managed to convey real warmth.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Your Highness," he answered. "Congratulations on your re-election."

"Thank you." Her eyes moved expectantly toward Ivan, and Obi-Wan introduced the two of them. For once, Ivan restrained himself and kept his tone polite rather than flirtatious. Obi-Wan breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least _some_ of his lectures were sinking in, then.

"Please, sit down," Queen Amidala urged them. Her handmaidens moved silently to stand behind the Queen as she carefully perched on the edge of the carved chair facing the Jedi. The handmaidens stooped and draped the Queen's long skirts gracefully around her, working so discretely that Obi-Wan hardly noticed what they were doing until they were done.

"I would have liked to arrange a warmer welcome for you, after all you have done for my people," Amidala said, placing her hands lightly on the carved armrests of her chair, "but I can see you preferred not to be publically acknowledged. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"You must forgive us for the unorthodox nature of our arrival, Your Highness," Obi-Wan said. "I did not feel it would be proper to visit you openly and create the impression that I was here as a representative of the Jedi Order."

Amidala looked surprised. "Who are you here representing, then?"

"A mutual friend of ours. Anakin Skywalker."

"Anakin?" Her formal tone slipped for a moment, and the name passed her lips sounding higher, more girlish. More like Padmé the handmaiden than Amidala the queen. "Nothing is wrong, I hope? He is still in training?" Unconsciously, her exquisitely manicured hands tightened on the arms of her chair.

"He is still in training," Obi-Wan assured her. "He is under the tutelage of Master Jinn and I'm told he is making a great deal of progress. It didn't take him long to catch up to his peers in the Temple."

Amidala relaxed noticeably. "I am pleased to hear it," she said.

"But we are concerned about him, Master Jinn and I," he continued. "He isn't doing well on a more personal level. He... misses his mother. When he left Tatooine, he promised to return one day and free her, and I believe the guilt weighs heavily on him because he has been unable to fulfill that promise."

Queen Amidala's eyes widened in surprise. "Then... Shmi is still on Tatooine?" She shook her head slightly. "Forgive me, Master Kenobi, but I had thought the Jedi would return to retrieve her as soon as it was feasible. That did not happen?"

"It was not possible," Obi-Wan said. "We have strict policies in place that forbid us from providing any monetary support to families who give their children to the Order. I am sure you can appreciate the reasoning behind it. We do not want to give the impression that we are buying children. They must be given to the Order freely, without expectation of reward, or we would be no better than slavers ourselves."

"Yes, I can see why that would be," the Queen said slowly.

"Given the unusual circumstances, Master Jinn sought to help Shmi nonetheless," Obi-Wan continued, "but he was hampered not only by the Jedi Code, but also by the laws of the Republic itself. It is of course illegal to use Republic funds to buy slaves, even if you plan to free them. The Republic cannot afford to so provoke the systems that thrive on the slave trade. To do so would invite war."

"And yet, Master Qui-Gon freed Anakin," Amidala pointed out.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, he managed to get around some of the problems because he didn't use Republic funds to do it - he won Anakin's freedom as part of a bet, a bet that was already necessary to make in order to fulfill his mission to get you safely to Coruscant. And he was careful to hide his identity as a Jedi and a representative of the Republic."

The Queen was silent for several long moments, staring down at her hands as a slight frown puckered her forehead.

"Then if someone else wished to free Shmi," she said at last, forming the words slowly, thoughtfully, "someone independent from the Order... surely there could be no objection?"

"I could not ask such a thing of anyone, Your Highness," Obi-Wan said quickly. "It would not be proper."

"There is no need to demure, Master Kenobi," the Queen said. "I prefer straightforwardness. You came all this way to speak to me. If you seek my assistance, please say so."

"I came here with no expectations, Your Highness," Obi-Wan said, "only hopes. As for your assistance, allow me to say that although Anakin has not seen you in many years, he still speaks of you often. You seem to have made quite an impression on him."

"It would be helpful if you were to contact Anakin and speak to him as a friend," Ivan put in, "Perhaps provide words of support and advice. We think the contact would be welcome and could do him some good, in the absence of his mother."

"I would be happy to do so, if you think it would help. But if I wished to offer more material help for Shmi, would you not accept it?" Amidala pressed. "The laws of my people also forbid public funds from being used to purchase slaves, but I have funds of my own, now that I have received compensation for my first term as Queen, and I am free to spend them as I wish."

"Of course, you must do what you think is right," Obi-Wan said, "but I do not like to think of you returning to Tatooine for such a purpose, Your Highness, with all the dangers inherent in such an endeavor."

"No," Queen Amidala admitted. "I cannot abandon my duties here." She leaned forward slightly, and Obi-Wan was struck by the intensity that suddenly flashed in her brown eyes, and the strength in her voice as she continued: "But I am certain that if you and I worked together, we could find a way. We could give her the gift of freedom. For Anakin."

Obi-Wan smiled warmly at her in agreement. "For Anakin."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Awoken as always by the sound of dewbacks bellowing as they lumbered past Mos Espa's Slave Quarters Row bearing their loads of goods, Shmi Skywalker opened her eyes and stared dully at the ceiling of her hovel, thinking of what awaited her today.

The same things that always awaited her, she knew. A silent hovel and a meager breakfast. The long dusty walk to Watto's shop. Another tedious day of cleaning and oiling machinery and helping customers and enduring Watto's petulance. Then the long walk home, and the rush to bathe, prepare herself a dinner, and do whatever mending or household repairs needed to be done before the power was shut down for the night. Finally, to go to bed in the desert chill, only to rise in the morning and repeat the whole routine again.

Once upon a time, she had woken each morning to the sight of Anakin jumping up onto her bed, his blond hair mussed, with smudges of grease on his face and hands, and his blue eyes burning with eager intensity as he begged her to get up already and come see what progress he'd made on Threepio or his podracer in the predawn hours, the only time left to him for his personal projects. Anakin always needed to tinker more than he needed to sleep.

She was grateful she still had Threepio. The protocol droid could be annoying, but he was helpful at times. More importantly, he reminded her of Anakin, and of his promise to return to free her one day. For a long time, it was the only hope Shmi had to cling to.

But six years had slipped by now, and Anakin hadn't come.

Shmi had no way of knowing why. Did he lack the means to purchase her freedom? Was his Jedi training so demanding that he was unable to come? Shmi tried not to think of darker possibilities, but sometimes she couldn't help it. Was Qui-Gon Jinn even a Jedi, as he'd claimed? At the time, Shmi had not doubted it for a moment, had trusted the man implicitly, even though he was a near-stranger to her. But now that she was no longer in his presence, she had moments when she wondered: Was he really who he said he was? Or had Anakin merely traded one slavemaster for another?

Or worse, what if Anakin were dead? Jedi Knights had a history of dying by violence, or so the stories went. In the dark night, the mere thought of her son lying dead on some alien world was enough to make her insides freeze with horror and keep her up the rest of the night, but in the bright light of day, she was usually able to comfort herself with this:

_"Will I ever see you again?" _

_"What does your heart tell you?" _

_"Yes, I guess." _

Anakin had never been wrong about such things. And so she continued to hope that he would rescue her, no matter how unlikely it now seemed.

But if he didn't, there was now another possibility, another quiet ray of hope for Shmi...

_Cliegg Lars._

Just the thought of him brought a smile to Shmi's careworn face, and gave her the motivation she needed to rise from her bed and begin her small preparations for the day.

The moisture farmer had come into Watto's shop one day about a year ago, looking for a replacement canopy for his old but well-maintained landspeeder. Shmi helped him, since Watto was busy with another customer. And she had felt an instant connection with this simple moisture farmer with broad shoulders, calloused hands, and surprising gentleness to his movements.

She tried to help him install the canopy he had purchased, but even working together they struggled to get it locked down on the top of the landspeeder.

_"My son could have done this in a moment," Shmi had said with a sad smile. "He was always good at fixing things."_

_"You have a son?" Cliegg said. "How old is he?"_

_"Fourteen," Shmi responded without hesitation._

_"I have a boy about that age, too," Cliegg said. "I can't imagine what I'd do without him. I lost his mother eleven years ago. It's just me and him now."_

They found commonality in their experiences as single parents, and soon Cliegg was finding all kinds of excuses to visit Watto's shop. Shmi never knew exactly when these visits would come, but she constantly caught herself watching the door, hoping she would catch of glimpse of that weathered, rough-shaven face.

She keenly felt the ridiculousness of such longings; if love hadn't found her at this point in her life, it was hard to believe it would come now. But it had. The months slipped by, and eventually the word "marriage" was spoken. The thing was impossible, of course, as long as she was a slave. Cliegg was saving up his money now in the hopes of buying Shmi's freedom and bringing her to his homestead to live. But his farm was modest, and slaves were expensive, even older ones like Shmi. It would take time. Cliegg was working so hard to raise the money that Shmi didn't see him as often anymore.

Even so, she permitted herself to hope that he had saved enough now to make the attempt. Maybe today she would see him walk through Watto's door with his son, Owen, and maybe by evening she would have the deed to her freedom in her hand, and maybe she would go home - really and truly go home, for the first time in her life - to the Lars homestead.

Moving with energy now, Shmi dressed herself in a rough tunic and long skirt, and then pulled her black hair straight back from her face in a neat bun. Finally, she draped a length of light fabric over her head to shield her face from the harsh rays of the twin suns, and stepped outside.

_Maybe, maybe, maybe._ If Anakin's dream had come true, why couldn't hers?

* * *

><p>Junk shop was right, Ivan thought wryly as he stood in the sandy streets of Mos Espa, looking at the dusty jumble of machinery visible through an archway to the outdoor portion of Watto's establishment. It was hard to believe this chaotic heap of equipment had been able to provide a living for the Toydarian, much less provide enough profit to enable him to afford slaves.<p>

Starship parts littered the perimeter of the junkyard, stacked up into precarious piles, while the center was lined with bins filled with speeder and swoop bike parts. Half-disassembled moisture vaporators were scattered throughout. Tiny droids skittered about, fiddling with the pieces in an attempt to make them look well-maintained. A fine coating of reddish dust covered everything.

Apparently Watto's recent troubles had made it difficult for him to keep his place neat and tidy, and it surely didn't help now that he had only one slave to his name, instead of two.

Ivan glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was studying the scene with a slight frown on his face. The Jedi Knight was dressed in loose grey Cyrene silk, the tunic partially obscured by blast armor consisting of a chestplate and shoulder guards. Slung around his hips was a leather utility belt complete with dual blaster pistols in their holsters. Ivan, on the other hand, was dressed in the rough-woven clothing typical of the underprivileged in Mos Espa, with his thin braid tucked up out of sight under a brimmed cap. His lightsaber was concealed under the loose folds of his right sleeve. He automatically reached up to touch the river stone hanging on its chain around his neck; its weight was a reassuring presence. He was standing a pace behind Obi-Wan, not only out of long habit to show respect to his teacher, but also to help create the impression that he was Obi-Wan's slave.

The two of them had been in Mos Espa for several weeks preparing the best they could for this encounter with Watto: gathering information, making contacts, carrying out delicate negotiations. Parked on the outskirts of town was their ship, filled with canisters of refined plasma mined from Naboo's core. Queen Amidala hadn't forgotten that Republic credits were useless on Tatooine. Now that the prep work was done, it was time for the most critical phase of the mission.

Although... should he even call this a mission? Ivan wondered. It felt strange to be spending what little leave time they got on such a dangerous task, when they usually stayed at the Temple to relax, attend lectures, do a little lightsaber training, and visit friends like Didi and Astri in CoCo Town.

It was even stranger to be undertaking a mission for a personal friend, rather than for those causes the Galactic Senate or the Jedi Council deemed worthy of a Jedi's attention. At least, Ivan hoped he could call Anakin a friend. He had done his best to forgive Anakin for the incident on Nar Shaddaa when Anakin had nearly killed him by accident. Ivan had since learned a little more about Anakin's history, and his personality, that helped him understand why the Chosen One had struggled to control his emotions during his battle with the slaver, Krayn. And Anakin had been friendly to him on their subsequent joint missions. Still, there was something... something not quite right between them. Ivan had never been able to put his finger on what it was. Did Anakin have some reason to secretly dislike Ivan? Or, Ivan privately wondered, was it a quiet reluctance on his own part to be friends with someone who consistently made him look bad by showing him up during combat, during demonstrations of the Force and, come to think of it, in almost every other way imaginable during missions and training exercises? Ivan didn't think of himself as a proud person... until his pride was damaged by the Chosen One, that is.

He tried not to care, he really did. But he did care. It didn't seem right that a boy who began training so late could so quickly outstrip Ivan and all the other Padawans. Ivan had once said something along these lines to Obi-Wan, who had laughed humorlessly and said, "Anakin makes us _all_ look bad, Ivan." It was true, too. Obi-Wan himself had once been defeated by Anakin during a training exercise. Ivan at first assumed his Master had permitted Anakin to win, until he noticed the look on Obi-Wan's face as he walked away: half-annoyance, half-admiration. What kind of Padawan beats one of the best Knights in the Temple? What would Anakin be capable of when he himself was a Knight? A Master? Ivan could not even begin to imagine. Perhaps he would even exceed Master Yoda's abilities one day, although that hardly seemed possible.

If Ivan were honest with himself, all this was part of the reason he had volunteered to accompany Obi-Wan on this venture. It was not only to keep an eye on Obi-Wan, although Ivan would never forgive himself if anything happened to his Master and he was not there to help. It was also because Ivan held a secret hope that by doing something for Anakin, he might be able to heal the quiet resentment he harbored against the Chosen One. It had been his observation during many of his missions that you can't make yourself like someone you dislike. But if you behave as though you do like them, sometimes the pretense can become the reality. It was like Obi-Wan said: "To love someone is to act in their best interests, regardless of what your actual feelings toward them are. This is the work of the Force. It cannot be explained, only experienced."

And so Ivan would try. Helping reunite Anakin with his mother would be his act of love. He just hoped it worked.

"Keep your eyes open," Obi-Wan said, breaking into Ivan's thoughts. "Watto may have had warning of our arrival." Ivan shook his head to free himself of his distracting thoughts, and slipped into the deceptively relaxed stance taught to all Padawans that in truth prepared them for instant action. In his guise as a slave, he wouldn't be doing the talking; it was his job to watch and learn, to be on his guard in case something unexpected occurred while his Master's attention was on Watto, and most importantly, to keep watch over Shmi throughout the negotiations. Based on everything they had heard, they were operating under the assumption that Watto would not readily cooperate.

Together, they strode through the entrance of the shop.

* * *

><p>Shmi was sitting in the dim workroom in the back of Watto's shop, working diligently to clean a boxful of speeder bike fuses, when she heard the chime over the doorway announce the arrival of a customer.<p>

Knowing Watto had flown up to his nest at the apex of his shop to rest during the worst heat of the day, as he always did, Shmi quickly set down her cleaning cloth and the fuse she'd been working on, stood, and parted the long strings of beads that served as a partition between the work room and the main area of the shop.

But Watto had beat her to it; the round-bellied blue alien was already fluttering down from his nest and calling out a greeting in Huttese to the customers, two Human men: "Chut chut! H'chu apenkee! "

Still standing half-hidden behind the curtain of beads, Shmi paused a moment to look curiously at the men. They didn't look like typical customers, most of whom were Jawas, poor moisture farmers, or middle-class merchants from the nearby marketplace. The older man looked like he would be more at home at Gardulla's palace, crawling as it always was with bounty hunters, enforcers and thugs. He was dressed in blast armor and openly wore twin blaster pistols, as well as an expression of grim determination. His slave, a thin and lanky teenage boy, stood just behind him with his head slightly lowered in a pose of submission, although his eyes were actively moving about, studying everything in the shop.

"Hi chuba da naga?" Watto asked as he came to hover in front of the pair, spreading his arms in an obsequious manner.

The older man smiled blandly at the Toydarian. "I want 170,000 peggats," he answered in Basic.

"Eh?" Watto stared at him blankly. "You want peggats?" Watto's Basic was heavily accented. "You want the Mohalla Treasury down Bobahn Street, I think, huh? This is a junk shop, not a bank."

Shmi's attention was caught as the young slave's brown eyes came to rest on her, and for a moment the two of them stood there staring at each other. Shmi caught her breath involuntarily, suddenly struck by the fact that he looked to be just the age Anakin would be now. This young man didn't look much like Anakin, it was true, with his dark eyes and the spiky jet-black hair poking out from under the brim of his hat, yet there was something indefinable about him that reminded her forcibly of her son. He looked at Shmi, his head tilted to one side, expression openly curious. Shmi shifted her weight uncomfortably and thought about withdrawing back into the work room, but the man in armor was speaking again, and the slave dutifully fixed his attention back on his master.

"I don't want money from a bank," the man was saying to Watto coolly. "I want it from you."

Watto scratched one webbed foot with the other uneasily, his wings flapping furiously to keep him hovering in midair. "What is this, eh?" he said gruffly. "You make a mistake, I think. You're looking for someone else."

"Oh, there's no mistake, my blue friend," the man said. He began taking slow steps toward the disconcerted Toydarian. "Watto: once a soldier in the Ossiki Confederacy Army, now proprietor of Watto's Shop, podracing enthusiast, prolific gambler... and defaulting cheater."

The flapping of Watto's wings abruptly ceased, and the alien's webbed feet hit the ground with a heavy thump.

"You're an enforcer?" Watto said, his yellow eyes widening in fear.

"That's right," the man said quietly. He bent down to put himself on eye level with the squat Toydarian, right hand just touching the handle of one of his holstered blasters. "You haven't been paying your bills, Watto."

Shmi felt an unpleasant jolt course through her body. She had known Watto wasn't doing well financially, especially after his latest round of losses at the Mos Espa Grand Arena. That fact had become more and more clear over the past few months, as he had not only cut back on the already meager allowance he gave Shmi for her small necessities, but he himself had also ceased to live as comfortably as he once had. But she hadn't known it was as serious as this, to bring an enforcer down on his head.

Watto wasn't bothering to conceal his panic. He took several shuffling steps backward, his wings twitching agitatedly. "I, uh... wait, wait, I just..."

Abruptly Watto turned slightly and spotted Shmi standing there. "Shmi! Ganda doe wallya," he snapped at her.

Silently, Shmi nodded and stepped forward into the main shop. Watto beckoned to the enforcer and his slave, and the two followed him through the bead curtain into the back room.

Shmi automatically began moving about the shop, straightening the various items displayed on the shelves, but she couldn't help but overhear the conversation going on in the back room.

"Who _are_ you?" Watto rasped hoarsely.

"The name's Kenobi," Shmi heard the enforcer say.

"Who hired you, huh?" the Toydarian demanded. "Dobreed? Grendle? Or that... that greedy little Rodian from Akim's Munch?"

"All of them," Kenobi said calmly. "It seems your debts are sufficient to make it worth their while to unite against you, Watto."

"Look, Kenobi, this is completely unnecessary!" Watto blustered. "I'm going to pay them all back! I just need time to collect it... I have a lotta deadbeats who owe _me_ a lot of money, you know!"

"My clients tire of your promises," Kenobi said. "Enough excuses. Enough delays. You will pay the amount in full, to me, within two days."

"Two days! I need more time!" Watto cried. "There's a podrace next week... I have it on good authority that By't Distombe will take a surprise victory... I can win big, I just need a little time... maybe you can make a bet of your own on him, eh? Earn a few peggats of your own, I think, eh?"

"Don't insult me by thinking I can be tempted by your pathetic schemes," Kenobi said. "Your creditors are paying me a generous fee to ensure you make the full payment. We will carry out the transaction on their terms, and we will abide by the deadline they have set."

"But the amount is all wrong!" Watto burst out. "My bet with Grendle, it wasn't a fair bet - he cheated me! I don't owe him anything!"

"If you wish to dispute the amounts, we can take it up with Gardulla the Hutt," Kenobi said. "The bet was recorded by her, was it not?"

Out in the shop, Shmi could hear Watto grind his broken tusk against his upper teeth in frustration. It was generally known that very few betters dared take complaints to the Hutts, as the family had a tendency to settle disputes by finding ways to confiscate the winnings for themselves, leaving both parties empty-handed.

"You have two days," Kenobi reminded Watto, and with that, he swept out of the back room, his slave in tow. Kenobi brushed past Shmi and out the door without a glance, but his young slave caught Shmi's eye again for an instant. Then he, too, was gone.

Watto emerged from the work room then, his blue face tinged purple with anger... or humiliation.

"Ganda doe wallya," he said to Shmi. "Me dwana no bata!" He flapped his way out the door, irritably knocking aside a pit droid unfortunate enough to get in his way. In moments he had disappeared into the foot traffic moving past the shop. Shmi had the uneasy feeling that whatever errand Watto was on, it was not to get the peggats the enforcer had just demanded.

There was going to be trouble. Shmi could feel it in her bones.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Obi-Wan was making his report to one of Watto's creditors - Grendle, a human baker who wore a filthy desert robe and had the body odor to match - when it happened. Ivan, who had just moved near the window to keep an eye on the activity in the streets outside, felt one of those ugly twinges in the Force that usually preceded violence. It seemed to be coming from the building directly across the street. Ivan rapidly scanned the face of the building and noticed a flash of reflected light coming from the roof, and a dark form crouched behind a smokestack, leaning out just far enough to get a good view of Grendle's shop.

A jolt of adrenaline rushed through Ivan's veins: The flash of light he'd seen was the sunlight glinting off a blaster rifle in the man's hands, pointed directly at Grendle's window. It could only be a sniper. Quickly, Ivan stepped to the side of the window where he would be shielded, and for a few heart-thumping moments, he fully expected the sniper to open fire.

He didn't, however; either he was waiting for a better shot, or didn't consider an enforcer's slave a worthy target. Ivan whipped his head around at Obi-Wan and Grendle. They were partially concealed from the window's view by a tall rack holding trays of toasted pallies, but he realized in an instant that if either one of them took a step in the wrong direction, the sniper would have a clear shot. Ivan repressed his urge to leap on the two of them and take them out of the line of fire; the sniper would be of use to them if he could be captured, and so Ivan must not do anything to alert him that his presence was noticed. Thinking quickly, he used a quick Force-tug to tip over the rack of pallies rotating over the open fireplace in the depths of the shop.

Grendle shrieked in dismay and rushed over to right the rack and try to save the pallies that hadn't already gotten burned or fallen onto the sandy floor. He yelped in pain as he grasped each hot pally with his fingertips and dropped them hastily into his spread-out apron. Obi-Wan knelt down to help move the fallen rack out of the way, but he glanced up to look questioningly at Ivan. Ivan mouthed "sniper" and took advantage of Grendle's distraction to slip one of the blaster pistols out of Obi-Wan's holster. Obi-Wan nodded silently and waved Ivan toward the door. Ivan stuffed the pistol into his waistband, out of sight under his loose shirt, and stepped out quietly, confident that Obi-Wan would keep himself and Grendle away from the window until the coast was clear.

Casually, Ivan strolled across the street, pulling his shirt over his mouth and nose as a wind gust blew gritty sand into his face, and joined the thin trickle of beings entering a sprawling, utilitarian-looking building. As he stepped inside and shook the sand out of his clothing, he realized he was in some kind of factory. Beings of all shapes and sizes lined up along conveyor belts, assembling and inspecting what looked like vocabulators for droids. There was enough noise and bustle that no one seemed to notice Ivan. Rapidly, he scanned the cavernous room and spotted a rusty spiral staircase in the corner. It led up to an unmarked metal door at the top. Trying not to look like he was hurrying, Ivan crossed over to the staircase and put his hand on the railing, but here his luck ran out.

"Hey!" a Quarren shouted at him, dropping a crate of parts and striding over. "That's off-limits, that is! Get back to work, wermo!"

"The boss says I'm to go up," Ivan said calmly, looking directly into the man's eyes. His hand traced a slow movement in the air, helping him focus his concentration in the Force. "You can go back to your duties now."

"I'll go back to my duties now," the man repeated dully, and wandered back over to the conveyor belt.

Ivan straightened his shirt and swiftly ascended the staircase, keeping his footfalls as light as possible. As he neared the top, he pulled the Force in around him, helping him cloak his presence further. Slowly, slowly, he turned the handle and gently swung the door outward. Peering out, he saw nothing on the roof but rows upon rows of solar panels tilted toward the two suns overhead, and smokestacks in a variety of sizes poking up amongst them, spewing steam and smoke. A few tiny droids equipped with fans slowly wheeled between the solar panels, keeping them clear of the ever-drifting sand. Ivan resisted rubbing his eyes in confusion because everything he saw up here was casting _two_ shadows, an eye-crossing sight unique to planets in binary systems.

The heat up here was unbearable; Ivan felt beads of sweat forming on his neck almost instantly. He looked at the buildings around him and got his bearings quickly. There was Grendle's bakery, to the north, and there were two smokestacks on that end of the roof. The sniper must be between them, using the one by the ledge as his shield while he watched the window, while the other hid him from Ivan's view, although he could see the man's dual shadows stretching out to the west.

Ivan began moving forward slowly, placing his leather-soled boots down carefully, moving silently as only a Jedi could. He decided to approach the sniper from the west, so his shadows wouldn't give him away prematurely. This was going to be tricky. Since they were hoping to complete the mission without revealing they were Jedi, he could only use his lightsaber as a last resort; this fight was likely to be visible to those in the street below. And he couldn't use any obvious displays of the Force, either. He had the blaster, of course, but as always he preferred not to use lethal force. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was feeling through the Force the terror and pain of a being thrust violently into the dark void that was death. Ivan had already felt it a handful of times in his apprenticeship, and he had no wish to repeat the experience if it could be avoided.

He had nearly reached the first smokestack. The sniper was just on the other side; Ivan could actually hear him breathing, slowly and steadily. Ivan hunkered down, bracing himself against a solar panel, and tried to figure out what the best strategy would be. Make a loud noise, wait for the sniper to look around the smokestack, and then kick him in the head? But there was no way to predict which side of the smokestack the sniper would peek around. Slip around one side and use the blaster to incapacitate the man by shooting his weapon arm? There was a chance the shock would cause the man's finger to convulsively squeeze the rifle's trigger, and the street was full of innocent bystanders. Ivan took a deep breath and reached into the Force to calm himself and help him think. Maybe he could...

Suddenly, a loud flapping noise right by his elbow broke his concentration. Startled, Ivan instinctively jerked backwards and wasted valuable time looking for the source of the noise.

To his horror, he realized it was the hem of his own shirt, which had been caught in the breeze created by one of the fan-toting droids up here. The droid had been attempting to clear sand off the solar panel Ivan crouched beside, and now it was chittering at him in annoyance for getting in its way. Ivan had just enough time to register all this when...

_Crack!_

A sharp pain blossomed across his back, sending him sprawling over a solar panel.

Without thought, his long years of training sent him into defense mode as he turned his fall into a tucked roll that took him over the edge of the solar panel, where it could serve as a shield for him. He managed to catch a glimpse of his assailant as he ducked down behind the panel: a humanoid fully encased in black-and-white patterned blast armor, including a scuffed helmet. His belt was crowded with weapons and gadgets; in fact, everything about him screamed "bounty hunter."

The man had wielded the blaster rifle like a club, but quick as a flash he dropped it, unholstered two blaster pistols and started to take aim. In that instant, Ivan dived to the side, heading for a smokestack that provided better protection.

He got there just in time. He leaned up against the back of the smokestack as blaster bolts flashed past him in rapid succession. Ivan gasped for air in the oppressive heat. His back throbbed painfully.

_Brilliant, Ivan_, he told himself in disgust. _Absolutely brilliant_.

The barrage of blaster bolts stopped. Time to end the self-recriminations and get to work. Ivan pulled his own blaster pistol out and risked a quick glance around the smokestack. The bounty hunter had taken shelter behind another smokestack. At the sight of Ivan the man unleashed a new torrent, and Ivan quickly dodged back.

He waited. Eventually, the bolts stopped again. This time, Ivan wasted no time implementing his own strategy. With the blaster in his left hand, he peeked around the smokestack to his right.

The bounty hunter fired again, but Ivan had already darted over to the left side of his smokestack and was firing away with precise aim.

It worked. The bounty hunter's shots missed him by a foot, and moments later one of Ivan's bolts knocked a blaster out of the man's right hand and sent it flying over the edge of the roof. Ivan heard a muffled cry of pain. He kept firing, but the man ducked behind his smokestack once again.

The odds were even now; each had one blaster pistol. The next several minutes were a cat-and-mouse game in which they took it in turn to peek out and try to shoot each other, but to no effect. Ivan was beginning to wonder if he should risk using the Force after all, perhaps to pull down one of the smokestacks on top of the bounty hunter, when he heard an odd clicking-whirring noise emanating from the direction of the man.

Ivan's mind didn't immediately register what the sound meant, but suddenly the Force was screaming _danger_ at him, and he reacted without thought. It was madness to leave the shelter of the smokestack when blaster bolts were still raining past, leaving Ivan with only one choice. Reaching out to the Force, he leaped high, straight up in the air. As he reached the top of his trajectory, he flung his arms around the smokestack, drawing on the Force to give him the extra strength he needed to cling to its smooth surface. The metal was painfully hot, but Ivan forced himself to hang on anyway.

Nearly twenty feet below him, he heard a dull metallic thud.

Then he heard a deafening roar.

The violence of the blast shook up Ivan's world as the base of the smokestack was torn apart. A searing heat rushed past him, and the next instant it was all he could do to keep his grip on the smokestack as it began to topple slowly, ponderously, down toward the billowing black smoke.

His eyes were tearing up from the acrid haze, but as he fell Ivan had just enough sense of where the edge of the roof was to know that he was about to go over it. Without hesitation he pushed off with his feet and somersaulted backward off the tilting smokestack, trusting in the Force to guide his landing.

He was not disappointed. Ivan landed catlike on the edge of the rooftop, one hand bracing himself on the duracrete, lungs burning but otherwise unharmed. Through the smoky air he could just make out the bounty hunter, only six feet away, with his back turned to Ivan. He was warily pointing his blaster in the general direction of the now-shredded smokestack base, ready to finish off his opponent on the slim chance he had somehow survived the devastation of a thermal detonator.

Unfortunately, Ivan was now unarmed, having managed to drop his blaster at some point in the confusion of the thermal blast.

Fortunately, he didn't need it. In three quick strides he had reached the bounty hunter and planted his boot in the man's back, sending him sprawling to the duracrete. The bounty hunter's blaster skittered away into the burning wreckage and disappeared from sight.

Already the man was scrambling to his feet. His gauntleted fist came flying at Ivan's face, but the Padawan was ready for it. He leaned back slightly, allowing the punch to whoosh past his face, and then grabbed the man's arm and jerked him forward, so that the bounty hunter stumbled forward, off-balance. Simultaneously, Ivan struck out at the gap in the man's armor under the arm. Fist made solid contact with ribs, eliciting a grunt of pain from the bounty hunter.

The man jerked his arm out of Ivan's grasp and tried to punch him in the gut. Ivan managed to block the blow, but pain shot up his arm as the spiked gauntlet smashed into it. Gasping, he stepped back to give himself a moment to recover, but it was a mistake. In that instant the bounty hunter pointed his arm at Ivan and pressed a button on his gauntlet.

Warned by the Force, Ivan dodged to the side. Almost fast enough... but not quite. A fibercord zipped out from the man's wrist, lashing Ivan's left arm tightly to his torso and embedding its spiked end into his shirt so that he could not pull free.

Without pause, Ivan grabbed the cord with his right hand and yanked with all his strength.

Caught off-guard by the unexpected move, the bounty hunter stumbled down onto his hands and knees, dangerously close to the edge of the roof. With a frantic gesture he pressed another button on his gauntlet and released his end of the cord.

Hampered as he still was by the tangled fibercord, Ivan still managed to send a flying kick to the man's head, knocking his helmet sideways. Blindly, the bounty hunter tried to kick Ivan's legs out from under him but missed. Ivan stomped on the unprotected back of the man's knee in response.

What followed next was a confused flurry of arms and legs as the bounty hunter struggled to right his helmet and get back on his feet, and Ivan tried to smash every unprotected body part he could reach without losing his own balance, since his arm was still pinned to his side.

For a brief time Ivan had the upper hand. He was just starting to enjoy the warm feeling he got when he was actually doing well in combat, when the bounty hunter unexpectedly landed a kick that sent Ivan stumbling back over a solar panel and onto the ground.

Ivan cursed as he awkwardly used his free hand to get back on his feet, but by the time he did the bounty hunter was also on his feet, hunched over in pain but already pulling something off his belt.

Exhaustion was setting in, and Ivan was aggressively uninterested in finding out what kind of fun the two of them could have with this new device, whatever it was.

_Let's end this._

Gathering what strength he had left, Ivan ran and leaped at the bounty hunter, and had the satisfaction of feeling the Force respond to his call as he flew through the air with unerring accuracy.

_Crunch!_ His boot smashed into the man's chest with the power of the Force behind it. Ivan landed on his side, hard, and cried out as his immobilized shoulder took the brunt of the fall. But out of the corner of his eye he could see the bounty hunter flailing his arms uselessly as he tumbled over the edge of the roof.

Ivan let his head fall back down on the ground and for a few blessed moments he just lay there and gasped for air.

But he knew he didn't have the luxury of rest just yet. He forced himself to sit up and awkwardly reach up behind his back with his right arm until he found the barb in his shirt that held the fibercord firmly around his torso. Wincing, he grasped the sharp piece of metal and tore it out of the fabric. A few quick squirms were all it took then to free himself of the cord. Ivan sucked on his bleeding fingers and limped quickly toward the door that would take him back inside the factory.

The ground floor of the factory was deserted; no doubt the explosion on the roof had caused considerable alarm among the workers, and the place had been evacuated. Ivan scrambled down the spiral staircase and raced through the factory floor and out into the street.

A broken length of smokestack blocked the sandy street, one jagged end still glowing hot from the force of the thermal blast. The acrid smell of burning metal lingered in the air.

The bounty hunter lay in the sand, not far from the remnants of the smokestack. A small knot of beings had gathered around the limp form, whether out of morbid curiosity or because they were preparing to search him and steal his valuables, Ivan couldn't tell. He thought quickly.

"Get away!" Ivan shouted, pushing aggressively through the crowd. "Leave him alone! That's my dad!"

Most of the beings scattered instantly, but a few remained. One, a brawny Weequay, stared blandly at Ivan as he finally made it to the bounty hunter's side.

"It's a woman," the alien said.

Ivan looked down uncertainly and fought to catch his breath. Sure enough, the bounty hunter's black-and-white-patterned helmet had been knocked off, revealing a definitely feminine human face.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Ivan said. "My mom."

The Weequay smirked knowingly, but thankfully, he sauntered away without further comment. The remaining natives dispersed too, laughing as they went. Ivan's shoulders sagged with relief.

He knelt in the sand and checked for a pulse, then seized the bounty hunter's wrists and hefted her over his shoulder so he could carry her into Grendle's bakery. His Master was waiting.

* * *

><p>It was late in the day, nearly dusk, when Obi-Wan and Ivan returned to Watto's shop and found the Toydarian showing a slender Bith his collection of vaporator parts.<p>

Obi-Wan cleared his throat loudly to get Watto's attention. Behind him, Ivan was still in his dirty slave attire and was dripping sweat from carrying the dead weight of the unconscious bounty hunter - armor, helmet and all - half a mile through the sandy streets of Mos Espa. With a grunt, he heaved her limp body off his shoulder, and she slid gracelessly to the floor of the shop.

Watto stared at the three of them, stupefied. Meanwhile, his customer took one look at the bounty hunter on the floor, dropped the condenser coil he was holding, and bolted out the door.

Watto looked at the body, his snout curled up in annoyance. "What's this?" he demanded gruffly.

"I thought perhaps you could tell me," Obi-Wan said. "Isn't this bounty hunter a friend of yours?"

"I don't know her." Watto held up his hands in denial. "I've never seen her before!"

"Then how did you know she's a woman?" Ivan said, reaching down and tugging off the bounty hunter's helmet, which they had carefully replaced before returning to the shop.

"Uh..." Watto's eyes darted around frantically.

"Well?" Obi-Wan snapped.

"You killed her, huh?" Watto said gloomily.

"Oh, don't worry, she's still alive," Obi-Wan said, nudging the prone form with his foot. "I expect she'll come to in a bit. It's a good thing she didn't succeed, Watto, or you'd owe yet another debt. Bounty hunters aren't known for their patience in collecting fees."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm in no mood to play games, Watto. You have one day left. I'm here to see what progress you've made."

Watto's silence was telling.

"That's what I thought. You're running out of time, Watto. I suggest you stop wasting time and start gathering your money."

"I don't _have_ any money!" Watto protested. "What, you think I'm lying? I have expenses, you know! I gotta buy parts from the Jawas to keep my shop running! I have a slave to feed! I got a lotta deadbeats who owe _me_ money, and I can't even afford an enforcer of my own to beat it out of them! You can see everything I own, right here in this shop!"

"If you have no money, then you must sell some of your assets."

"I've been trying! Business has been slow, and you just scared away one of my customers," Watto's expression turned pleading. "What more can I do?"

Obi-Wan stood for a long moment, lost in thought. "You say you have debtors of your own. How much do they owe you?"

"Altogether? Around 150,00 peggats, I think. I got it all in my books."

"Nearly enough," Obi-Wan murmured. "Perhaps an arrangement can be made, then."

Watto's yellow eyes lit up. "An arrangement, huh? Yes... yes, _you_ can help me! You can get my money from them, and give it to your clients, I think! Then everyone wins, huh?"

"There's just one problem," Obi-Wan said. "As much as I'd like to do this out of the goodness of my heart, I must insist on receiving a fee for the additional transactions. And you say you have no money."

"I can pay you! I'll make a bet on the podraces in three days, and pay you with the winnings!"

Obi-Wan negated this with a quick shake of his head. "More promises. I need something more real."

"You can have something from my shop!" Watto cried desperately. "I gotta lotta good stuff here, I think... I got hyperdrives out in the yard that are worth a lotta money. You can have one."

"Hmmmm..." Obi-Wan said noncommittally. "I have no need of a hyperdrive. But I'm sure we can arrange the details of my payment later. I'll take the job, then." He held his hand out, and Watto slapped his own hand down in the informal tradition of sealing a deal.

"Let me take-a thee to the back then! I'll show you my books." Watto locked the door to his shop and eagerly led the way into his back room.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

It was late in the afternoon when the enforcer, Kenobi, returned to Watto's junk shop with his slave in tow. Shmi was sweeping the floor when they came in. She tried not to stare, but as before, her eyes were drawn to the slave boy who stuck to his master's side like a shadow.

Shmi quietly retreated to a corner of the shop with her broom as Watto flew out of the back room and fixed his yellow eyes on the enforcer.

"Ah, Kenobi. So you're back, huh?" Watto said to him gruffly. "So, uh... did you get it?"

The enforcer silently held up a small bag, and Shmi heard the distinctive clink of peggats inside.

Watto's eyes lit up greedily. "Ah!" he exclaimed, reaching for the bag. Kenobi snatched it back out of his reach.

"This is for your creditors," he reminded Watto.

"Yes... yes, of course," Watto said, recovering himself. "You'll deliver it to them, then, I hope?"

"There are two problems with that," Kenobi said. "One, this isn't quite enough to satisfy the debts."

Watto flung his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't have any more to give, I told you that!" he cried.

"... and two, there's still the matter of my payment to settle," the enforcer continued smoothly.

Watto hovered in the air, looking apprehensive. "Uh... I got a lotta good stuff out in the yard, I think," he said. "Whatta ya want?"

Kenobi shrugged, looking indifferent. "Show me what you have."

Watto took the enforcer out to the yard, and Shmi heard him pointing out the various hyperdrives he'd collected from the Jawas over the past few months. Trying not to eavesdrop, Shmi held the broom in one hand and awkwardly tipped a rack of O-rings up on one edge so she could sweep the sand out from under it.

To her surprise, the enforcer's slave was suddenly there at her side, helping her hold the rack steady. Shmi was so startled she dropped her end of the rack, but with lightning-fast reflexes, the young man's hand darted out and caught it before it could smash her foot.

"Sorry," he apologized swiftly. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"That's all right," Shmi said, smiling. Swiftly she swept out the sand so he could set down the rack again.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Shmi Skywalker."

The young man held out his hand. "Ivan Bal-Tova." They shook hands. He had a firm grip, as though he were much stronger than his thin frame suggested.

"You're from Coruscant?" Shmi blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Why do you say that?" Ivan asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Your accent," Shmi said. "I met someone from Coruscant once. Years ago."

"Oh." Ivan looked slightly abashed. "Yes. I'm from Coruscant."

"I thought slavery was outlawed in the Core," Shmi said, puzzled.

Ivan cleared his throat and didn't answer for a moment. "So they say," he said at last. "So. What about you? How does, uh..." he nodded his head in the direction of Watto. "How does he treat you?"

Shmi shrugged and managed a weak smile. "Well enough," she said. "I work hard. But so does almost everyone on Tatooine, free or not." She quickly changed the subject. "What about your master? Is he good to you?"

For some reason, the young man's lips curved up ever so slightly. "You'd be surprised," he said.

At that point, Watto and Kenobi came in from the junkyard. Watto was panting slightly from the effort of keeping himself aloft in the oppressive heat.

"Well, whatta ya think?" Watto asked the enforcer nervously.

"What do I think?" Kenobi repeated. "I think you've got a lot of junk, Watto. And I'm not interested in junk."

Watto's long nose drooped noticeably. "It's all I have," he objected weakly. "Please... I don't have anything else to give you."

"Then perhaps we should reconsider our deal," the enforcer said grimly, "since you've failed to make it worth my time."

"No!" Watto said desperately, a flush turning his blue face into a sickly mottled purple. "No, please, I need this deal! I'll give you anything! Anything in my shop!"

"Anything?" Kenobi said slowly, and unexpectedly a hint of smile played on his lips.

"Anything!" Watto said eagerly. "Take your pick!"

The enforcer coolly looked around the shop, until finally his eyes came to rest on Shmi. He looked at her for the space of a beat, and inexplicably Shmi suddenly felt her heart begin to pound loudly in her chest, as though her body understood what was about to happen, even if her mind did not.

"I want her," Kenobi said, his blue eyes locked on Shmi's brown eyes.

"What?" Watto said in disbelief.

"Your slave. I want her."

And in an instant, it all came back to Shmi:

...The day of raw terror in which the girl Shmi had been abducted from her home, along with the rest of her family, and they had been torn from each other and transported to different owners, never to see each other again.

...The day her first owner died and she and a 3-year-old Anakin had been loaded onto a dingy, fetid ship bound for Tatooine along with all the other unfortunates destined for the seller's block.

...The day they'd been sold to Gardulla the Hutt and herded into the dim bowels of her palace to spend their days mucking out the cages and tanks that held her exotic collection of extraplanetary animals.

...The day Gardulla had lost a bet to Watto, and the two Skywalkers had been plucked from the workrooms, chained up and packed off in a gravsled without a word of explanation about where they were going or why.

Over and over again, the humiliation of being bought and sold and traded as though she were a commodity and not a human being. The utter disregard for her feelings and desires and wishes, as though she were a droid to be used and discarded at will. Shmi was overcome by such a wave of humiliation, helplessness and yes, even anger, that she was only dimly aware of the broom slipping out of her nerveless fingers and clattering to the floor. Through the rushing sound in her ears, she could faintly hear Watto saying incredulously:

"Shmi? She's not for sale!"

At last the enforcer released Shmi's gaze and fixed Watto with an immovable expression. "I will accept nothing else."

Shmi swayed on her feet as a sudden weakness in her knees threatened her balance. Despair shot through her. It was happening again. Another transaction, and another owner. Once again she would be torn from everything that she knew, and taken who knew where, and expected to do whatever she was told, no matter how difficult or unpleasant her new tasks - or taskmasters - were. Only this time she would not even have the comfort of Anakin's presence with her. And this time she would leave behind far more than a former slavemaster. Shmi's eyes welled with tears, and she did not have the strength to hold them back.

_If only Cliegg had come today!_

Then Shmi felt a warm arm slip around her shoulders, holding her upright as she swayed on the spot. The young slave. Ivan. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and she understood just as if he had spoken the words to her that he was saying everything would be all right. The impossibility of such a reassurance was not lost on her, but nevertheless she felt a barely perceptible lightening of her desolation.

Meanwhile, Watto's expression was darkening. "No enforcer's fee is worth a slave - not by a long shot!"

Kenobi shrugged, looking unconcerned. "I have a shipment of refined plasma that's worth enough peggats to make up the difference. Once you sell it, that will give you enough to fulfill your obligations to your creditors and to me, and have some left over for the upkeep of your shop. Unless you waste it all on foolish bets again, that is."

Watto's wings flapped frantically as he thought it through. "But... I need a slave to help me run my shop," he objected.

"You don't seem to understand," the enforcer said, his voice low with intensity. "Unless you agree to this deal, you won't _have_ a shop anymore. I'll return all the peggats I just collected from your debtors, and then your creditors, seeing that you can't pay them, will authorize me to seize your property instead."

"You wouldn't," Watto said weakly.

"You've already seen what I can do," Kenobi said. His voice was like steel. "Do you doubt it?"

For once, Watto was speechless.

"All right then. Why don't we step into the back room, and we can discuss it further?" Without waiting for an answer, the enforcer strode into the back room. Watto glanced back at Shmi, his face unreadable, but then his shoulders sagged in defeat, and he slowly flapped his way into the back room and disappeared from sight.

Shmi and Ivan were left standing alone in the shop.

Ducking her head just long enough to smear the tears from her cheeks with the rough sleeve of her tunic, Shmi bent over to pick up the broom and resumed sweeping, although she could hardly see the floor.

In a moment, Ivan was by her side again, taking the broom from her hand and gently steering her toward the stool behind the counter. "Sit down," he murmured.

"I can't." Shmi resisted, but the young man was persistent in his efforts. "I can't. I have to keep working, or he'll..."

"I'll do it, then. Just sit down a minute."

Too confused and soul-weary to object further, Shmi let Ivan make her sit down on the stool, and there she sat numbly as he worked to sweep the floor of sand. In the back room, Watto was arguing with the enforcer, offering anything and everything he had, except for Shmi. It wasn't out of affection or concern for her well-being, she knew. Owning a slave added a great deal to one's prestige in Mos Espa, and despite the desperate state of his finances, Watto was proud and put great stock in keeping up appearances. Once he lost his last slave, everyone would know how far he had fallen.

The arguments continued for a long time. Watto's tone alternated between obsequious pleading and a pathetically false bravado, but Kenobi remained perfectly calm... and in control of the discussion. Meanwhile, Ivan finished sweeping the floor and started straightening the items on the shelves and racks. He kept glancing over in her direction, as though he were watching to make sure she didn't faint... or run away. Perhaps he had been given instructions from his master to that effect. And indeed, the thought of escape crossed Shmi's mind more than once, but she knew it was useless. The day Gardulla the Hutt bought her, a medical droid had implanted a tiny but deadly explosive in Shmi's body. The transmitter had a range of many miles. With a press of a button, her owner could bring her escape attempt - and her life - to an abrupt end.

If only there were a way for her to contact Cliegg... if only she could slip away just long enough to find someone in the market - maybe old Jira - who could get a message to him. Whether to tell him goodbye, or to plead for him to rescue her, Shmi had not yet decided. She did not have much hope that a simple moisture farmer could contend with this enforcer in any way, yet somehow she knew that wouldn't stop Cliegg from trying.

Watto's voice, emanating from the back room, was growing quieter and quieter as he ran out of arguments to throw at Kenobi. The topic had now changed from whether a slave was an appropriate compensation for the enforcer's services, to how much she was worth. Shmi began to steel herself for the inevitable. Even she could see that it was Kenobi who had the upper hand. And here she sat, listening to others decide her fate. Utterly powerless. How she hated it. How Anakin had hated it, too. If there was any bright side, it was that Anakin at least was free from the perpetual humiliation of a slave's life. Shmi would go to her grave being grateful for that.

The negotiations were winding down now. Watto was trying to talk the enforcer into upping the amount of refined plasma he would get in return for selling Shmi. She glanced up at Kenobi's slave, and saw that he was listening to the conversation as intently as she was, a slight frown of concentration on his face, almost as though he were trying to memorize every word. She wondered what he thought of her becoming enslaved to his master. Surely it would mean less work for him, to have another slave to share the workload.

For that matter, what kind of work would she be expected to do? To what use would an enforcer put her? Perhaps she would be returning to house servant status. The enforcer certainly appeared to be effective at his job and probably owned property somewhere. That wouldn't have been so bad, except now she would never see Cliegg again, and now if Anakin returned he might not be able to find her either. With a heavy heart, Shmi hunched over on her stool. As if from a great distance, she heard the enforcer's voice coming from the back room: "Do we have an agreement then?"

There was a long silence, and then the sharp slap of Watto's hand against Kenobi's, signaling that the transaction was final. Shmi bowed her head and once again the silent tears streamed down her face. It was over. All over.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and then Ivan was kneeling on the floor beside her, untying the obi from around his waist and using it to wipe away her tears.

"Don't worry," he murmured quietly. "I'll look after you."

Shmi swallowed at the lump in her throat. "Why?" she managed to whisper. "You don't know me."

Kenobi was speaking again, asking Watto for the transmitter to Shmi's implant. "And I'll need the location of a medcenter, somewhere I can take her to have the implant removed."

"Removed?" Watto sounded dumbfounded. "Whatta ya wanna do that for? She'll run away from you, I think."

"She won't run from me," Kenobi said, and the casual confidence in his tone sent an involuntary shiver down Shmi's spine.

"I don't need to know you, Shmi," Ivan answered, drawing her attention back to him. "I've always believed that the biggest problem in the galaxy is that nobody helps each other."

Stunned, Shmi could only stare at him. It was exactly the sort of thing she always used to say to Anakin, and to hear it coming from the lips of a slave boy just the same age as him was enough to stop her tears as suddenly as they had started.

"Who are you?" she said suddenly. "Who are you, really?" She couldn't explain it, but all at once she sensed that there was nothing of the slave about him. Perhaps it was because in his eyes she saw none of the hopelessness that bowed down anyone denied the most basic of human needs: the freedom to choose their own path, for good or for ill.

Ivan looked as though he desperately wanted to answer that question, but he never got a chance. At that moment Watto and Kenobi came back into the main portion of the shop. Kenobi was holding in his hands the transmitter to Shmi's implant, and the memory chip that served as the deed to her ownership. Shmi quickly got to her feet.

Watto came over to hover before Shmi, and a long awkward silence passed between them. At last, Watto said gruffly, "Sorry, Shmi, but business is business, you know. I had no choice." And with that, he ascended to the rafters of his shop where he perched for the night, calling down to Kenobi his parting shot: "I'll expect to see the plasma on my doorstep by nightfall. If you try to cheat me, enforcer, I'll make sure the Hutts hear about it."

Kenobi - Shmi's new master - stopped in front of her and gazed at her levelly. Shmi dropped her eyes and stared at the floor, just in case he was the sort of man who believed slaves should not make eye contact with their masters.

"Do you know what's happened?" Master Kenobi asked, and his voice was unexpectedly gentle.

"I belong to you now, sir," Shmi said quietly.

"Hmmm," Master Kenobi said, in the same noncommittal tone he'd used earlier on Watto. "As you say," he said at last. "Do you have any belongings, Shmi?"

"Not much of my own, sir," Shmi said. "Just my clothes..." Suddenly an idea popped into her head. "...and a protocol droid," she added quickly. "He knows millions of languages, both sentient and droid; perhaps he could be of use to you. I can bring him to you."

"Where is the droid?" Master Kenobi asked.

"In my hovel. In Slave Quarters Row, not far from here," Shmi said, trying not to show her eagerness. "I can go there and back very quickly, sir." Oh, if only she could slip away long enough to get a message to Cliegg...

Master Kenobi turned to Ivan. "Take her to the medical center on Tiure Street and make sure her implant is removed properly," he ordered. "I'll take the peggats to Watto's creditors and retrieve the droid. Meet me at the droid foundry we passed at the edge of town."

"Yes, Master," Ivan replied without hesitation, taking Shmi by the elbow and steering her firmly out the door.

Shmi's hope was evaporating as quickly as a drop of water spilled onto the blazing hot sand.

* * *

><p>"<em>Now<em> will you tell me what's going on?"

Qui-Gon powered down the ship's engines and gave Anakin the look of quiet disapproval he always wore when he thought Anakin was being too impatient.

"Oh, come _on_, Master!" Anakin exclaimed. "I waited two whole days to ask you again. We've arrived now, so why can't you just tell me where we are and what the mission is?"

"Until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction," Qui-Gon said. Just like he always said when he thought Anakin was being too impatient.

"Yes, I know." Anakin tried to modulate his tone. "But since we're _actually_ here, Master, it's no longer a possibility, it's reality. So what's up?"

Qui-Gon settled back into the pilot's chair and closed his eyes. "You'll see soon enough," he said.

Anakin waited expectantly, but Qui-Gon had apparently said everything he was going to say on the subject.

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Anakin demanded. "I'm going stir-crazy here. We've been stuck on this ship forever."

"Sit and meditate on the meaning of the word patience?" Qui-Gon suggested, not opening his eyes to see what effect this idea would have on his Padawan. No doubt he already knew.

Anakin leaned back in the co-pilot's seat with a huff, and stared morosely out the cockpit's main viewport at the undulating waves of sand dunes stretching out as far as he could see.

"This place looks depressingly like Tatooine," he said.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

****A/N: I'd love to hear what you think so far! Constructive criticism is welcome.


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Shmi staggered slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her, and for a drawn-out moment she felt as though she were about to tip right over into the sand that lay in deep piles here at the edge of town.

Ivan caught her arm and steadied her for a few more steps until they reached the row of rough boulders marking the property line of the droid foundry on the outskirts of Mos Espa.

"You all right?" he asked, easing her down into a sitting position in the shade of a boulder. He stepped behind her, and Shmi felt his cool fingers brush the raw incision on the back of her neck, where the med-droid had just removed the tiny explosive device that had been implanted in her body so many years ago.

"Just a little light-headed," she murmured in response, closing her eyes and waiting for the spell to pass. "I'm fine."

Ivan's fingertips still rested lightly on the incision. "There's some internal bleeding," he said softly, almost as though he were speaking to himself. "Not too severe, but I think I'd better..." Shmi felt a light pressure building under his fingertips, and an odd sort of warmth, not as though it were from the heat of his body, but a more penetrating warmth that seemed to throb under the surface of her skin and then slowly, slowly dissipate until at last it was gone and Ivan removed his hand from the back of her neck.

Shmi gingerly touched the wound and was surprised to discover that both the pain and the dizziness had entirely vanished.

"What did you do?" she asked in surprise as Ivan lowered himself to the shaded sand next to her.

He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "Applied pressure."

Shmi hesitated a moment, and then asked the question she had been wondering about since she had been left alone with Ivan. "Where are we going?"

Ivan pointed west, where low rolling hills of sand limited their range of vision. "Master Kenobi's ship is about a mile that way."

"And then where?"

Ivan shrugged. "Offworld."

They sat in silence for several minutes. Ivan seemed preternaturally calm, but Shmi's head was racing with thoughts. Primary among them was the fact that if she was going to run away, now was the time, now that she was free of her implant. If she was going to do it, it must be before her new master arrived. She had no hope that she could outrun or outsmart someone like him.

Of course, she probably couldn't outrun Kenobi's slave, either, but earlier he had seemed almost shockingly sympathetic to her plight, and Shmi clung to the faint hope that he might simply let her go. Let her escape, even though he would certainly be punished, and severely, by his master for such carelessness.

It was now or never. If she could just get away, make her way somehow to the Great Chott Salt Flat and then to Anchorhead, where everyone knew Cliegg and would know how to get word to him that Shmi was there...

Master Kenobi wouldn't have any idea to look for her there, out in the wastes. Then she would be free to live her life as she chose.

It was all completely logical, and after all, when would she have a better chance? What did she have to lose by trying? She was already a slave. And if she lost her life in the attempt... well, she was only living half a life anyway. Anakin no longer needed her, and without Cliegg there would be no hope left in her heart - for happiness or freedom.

Shmi stood up slowly, afraid the dizziness would return, but to her relief she felt completely normal. Trying to look casual, she began scanning the area, looking for likely places to dodge quickly out of sight. Her heart began to pound as she contemplated what she was about to do. What happened in the next few minutes might decide her fate for the rest of her life.

"Shmi."

Shmi nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn't even heard Ivan rising from the sand, but suddenly he was right by her side, speaking her name into her ear. Shmi pressed her hand against her heart and fought down the panic that was rising in her throat. When she had stilled her trembling somewhat, she turned and looked up and saw a warning gleam in Ivan's eyes.

"Don't," he said. That was all.

Shmi couldn't trust herself to speak, but she tried to communicate her desperation in her eyes. _Help me_, her eyes pleaded. _Let me go._

"You don't want to go," Ivan said matter-of-factly, just as if he had heard her speak the words aloud, and his hand sketched a slow pass in the air across her view.

"I don't want to go," Shmi repeated, and she saw the truth of it. Why had she wanted to go in the first place? It didn't make sense. She liked it here. She liked Ivan and there was no reason to go anywhere. Where would she go? Of course she would stay right here with him.

But a second thought rapidly intruded on the first. _I must run! It's now or never!_ For a lingering moment she battled confusion in her mind, but in the next instant she made her choice - to follow her instincts. She whirled to the left, away from Ivan's reaching hand... and froze, horrified, as Master Kenobi suddenly appeared around the corner of the rough mud-plastered factory, leading four eopies.

Ivan's hand closed around her upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. Shmi looked back to him with wild eyes.

"_Please!"_ she hissed, and tried to pull away from him.

"Shmi!" he hissed back, not releasing her arm. "Do you want to be free?"

"_What_?" she said fearfully, glancing back over her shoulder. Master Kenobi was getting closer and there was no time, no time...

"Listen to me!" Ivan said. He bent his head near hers and spoke rapidly, but each syllable was enunciated with precision, so she didn't miss a word. "If you want to be free, you must stay with me. You must trust me. I can make it happen for you, but you must trust me. You _must_ stay."

"I..." Shmi hesitated, torn. She stood poised on her toes, ready to run, but suddenly unsure if she should.

Then she had an idea. A memory. Anakin had been able to tell, sometimes, if someone was trustworthy. He had never been able to adequately explain how he knew. _"I just look at them," _he had said once,_ "and I know."_

Shmi knew she didn't have Anakin's gift, and yet she stood still and gazed intensely at Ivan, trying in her own clumsy way to see past the physical and into his soul.

To her disappointment, she didn't sense anything beyond what her ordinary senses were telling her. But she noticed something she hadn't before. A thin silver chain was hanging around Ivan's neck, and his rough shirt gaped open in the front just enough to reveal what was attached to the chain - a glassy black rock, irregular-shaped, with the brilliance of Tatooine's twin suns glinting off its surface. It gave off almost a reddish fire. There was something hauntingly familiar about that stone. Shmi tried to grasp onto that elusive feeling, tried to give it meaning: a sort of deja-vu? A promise of protection? A whiff of mother-love? That almost felt right. Yes. Someone had loved this boy the way she loved Anakin, and somehow the stone knew it.

For an instant, Shmi understood it perfectly, and in the face of that dazzling truth she lost all fear.

But the next moment, it was gone, and Shmi stood there feeling rather foolish. How could a stone know anything? It couldn't. Had Ivan somehow distracted her, put these nonsensical ideas into her mind to make her forget to run away, the way he had seemed to just a few minutes earlier? Yet her mind had not resisted this time. And Ivan was looking at her with a slightly confused expression, as though he himself wasn't sure what had just happened.

They could both hear Master Kenobi's footsteps approaching. Shmi's window of opportunity had vanished. There would be no escape for her now.

"Trust me," Ivan repeated quietly.

"I do," Shmi said, wonderingly.

Ivan released her arm, and they turned as one to face Master Kenobi as he reached them, the reins of four eopies clutched in his hands.

"Bless the maker, we've arrived at last!" Threepio cried in tones of relief. The droid was strapped onto the back of one of the eopies - not astride the saddle, as a human would ride, but draped over the animal's back with his head on one side and his feet hanging stiffly down the other side. "Will someone please help me down? This is a most undignified position!"

"We _haven't_ arrived," Master Kenobi said to him. He sounded aggravated.

"We're not going on into the open desert, are we?" Threepio asked, sounding terrified at the prospect. "The wind will blow sand into all my joints; I'll scarcely be able to move within minutes! There won't be enough oil in all of Mos Espa to clean my circuits then!"

"How do you turn off his vocabulator?" Master Kenobi asked Shmi, ignoring Threepio's continuing petulant remarks about the dangers of scouring sandstorms and scavenging Jawas. "He didn't stop complaining the whole way here. I looked all over and the switch isn't where it should be on a protocol droid."

"I'm sorry, sir," Shmi said quickly. "My son tinkered with him and moved some things around. The switch is here now." She reached up and turned off Threepio's vocabulator, silencing him at last, as Master Kenobi muttered something that sounded like "Of _course_ he did." Which made no sense at all.

Shmi's eyes wandered involuntarily to the street leading into Mos Espa. It took her a moment to realize she was watching for any sign of Cliegg. She knew she was being absurd. Cliegg had no way of knowing what was happening to Shmi. Even now, he was probably coming inside his home to take shelter from the worst of the afternoon heat, to eat and rest, perhaps make equipment repairs in his underground workshop until the cool of the evening, when he would go out again with Owen to tend to the vaporators until the suns set with a brilliant display of jewel tones on the horizon, the only time the desert was truly beautiful. Shmi ached with homesickness, thinking of this homestead she had never seen, save through Cliegg's eyes.

"Shmi," Master Kenobi said, breaking her reverie. Shmi quickly drew a deep breath and looked back at her new master.

"Please come here," he said.

Shmi walked over to face Master Kenobi and bowed her head slightly, so that all she could see were her flat-soled gray shoes, half-buried in the dun-colored sand.

"Look at me," he said, and instantly she obeyed. It was the first time she had gotten a good close look at him. One part of her mind registered the slate-blue eyes, the straight nose, the five o'clock shadow on his jaw, and the warm tones of his hair, slightly reddish in the glaring suns. She might have thought it a pleasant face, if the other part of her mind weren't preoccupied by the dread of wondering how cruel or neglectful a slavemaster he might turn out to be.

"Do you like surprises?" Master Kenobi asked, a question that rocked Shmi back on her heels for a moment. But she didn't need to think about her answer.

"No, sir," she said positively.

Master Kenobi pressed his lips together for a moment. "No, of course you wouldn't," he said. He glanced up, and he an Ivan shared a significant look. At last Master Kenobi looked back down at Shmi. "Would you like me to tell you where we're going, then?"

Shmi felt a sort of bone-deep weariness settle over her. "No, sir," she said. Suddenly it did not matter in the slightest where she was going. It was enough to know that she wouldn't be staying here, where Cliegg was, where Anakin might come looking for her someday.

"No?" he repeated in some surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Does it matter?" The words slipped out before Shmi could stop them. "Sir," she added quickly.

"Well..." Master Kenobi hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "You'll see soon enough, I suppose." He shared another unfathomable look with his slave Ivan, and Shmi could not miss something unspoken between the two men. A silent question being asked, and answered. She couldn't imagine what it might be, and she didn't want to know. Shmi let her eyes drift back down to her feet. Whatever it was, she just wanted it to be over with as quickly as possible.

Master Kenobi finally turned from her and tugged downward on the reins of the eopie nearest to Shmi. It groaned in response, but stood its ground stubbornly.

"How do you get them to kneel?" Master Kenobi asked, tugging uselessly on the reins again.

Shmi stepped forward and clicked her tongue at the eopie. With a low groan, it lowered itself first onto its front knees, then the back knees, and waited patiently to be loaded.

"Ah," Master Kenobi said, sounding pleased. He clicked at the other two unburdened eopies in similar fashion, and they obediently followed suit. He glanced over at Shmi.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

As if she had a choice. Shmi nodded silently. He gestured for Shmi to come forward and, placing his hands on her hips, lifted her up to sit side-saddle on the eopie. As she'd suspected, he was much stronger than his lean frame suggested. In his line of work, he would have to be. Shmi pulled out the length of light fabric she'd tucked into her belt earlier, and draped it over her head to provide some protection from the suns.

Seeing that Shmi was settled, Ivan turned and mounted his own eopie. Master Kenobi handed him the reins to Threepio's beast and then climbed onto the back of the last eopie, all the while keeping a tight hold on the reins of Shmi's.

Shortly, the four of them were riding into the desert with Master Kenobi in the lead. Shmi turned back to look uncertainly at Ivan. He nodded to her in a silent reassurance and Shmi turned her eyes forward, resisting the urge to look back one more time at Mos Espa. It hadn't been much of a home, but it was where she had raised Anakin, and where she had met Cliegg, and for that reason she unexpectedly found herself reluctant to say farewell to it.

_Oh Cliegg! If only you had come today!_

They plodded along in the sand, the four of them on their eopies, heading toward a series of low rolling hills of sand. Shmi was forced to accept the fact that shortly she would be onboard a starship, leaving Tatooine behind for good.

All she knew was that for one moment, she had trusted Ivan, and that there was nothing left now but to see it through, for good or for ill.

* * *

><p>"Anakin." Qui-Gon nudged his Padawan, who was resting his elbows on the deactivated controls of their ship with his chin cupped in his hands, staring at nothing in particular. Anakin blinked and sat up straight, bringing himself to full alertness in an instant, as he always did. Anakin never failed to impress Qui-Gon with his ability to be fully in the moment - when Anakin chose to be.<p>

"Master?" he said, and Qui-Gon couldn't miss the anticipation in his tone. Anakin knew something was up. He didn't know what, yet, but he was obviously eager to find out.

Qui-Gon nodded toward the back of the ship. "Go out and perform a flight check."

Anakin looked a trifle disappointed. "A flight check?" he repeated.

"Yes, a flight check. Go on."

"Yes, Master." Anakin heaved himself out of the co-pilot seat and started for the back of the ship, but just before he left the cockpit, he paused.

"Wait. Did you feel that?" he demanded.

"Feel what?"

"That tremor."

"Earthquake?" Qui-Gon asked seriously.

"No, in the Force," Anakin said carefully. He never could tell when Qui-Gon was joking, and he had learned it was best not to assume.

"I don't sense anything," Qui-Gon said mildly.

Anakin knit his brows together. "The last time I felt one like that was when I was with Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon said nothing.

"Are we meeting him here?" Anakin persisted, and his eyes lit up with expectancy. "Because that would be really wiz-"

"Don't you dare say it would be wizard," Qui-Gon interrupted. "If you want people to take you seriously, you must keep your language a little more professional, my very young Padawan."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said automatically, although at 15 he was beginning to resent being called _very young_. How would Qui-Gon like it if Anakin called him _very old_? "But _is_ it Obi-"

"Flight check. Now."

"Okay, okay," Anakin said testily, and went out at last.

Anakin opened the control panel on the port wing and began flipping test switches, each one lighting up in turn to verify that fuel lines were clear, fuses were undamaged and alluvial dampers were operational. Anakin had done this often enough that he could run a flight check in his sleep. It was strange to think that only seven years ago, he had never set foot on a starship. Now he felt more at home in them than he did planet-side. Once he had thought there could be no greater thrill than zipping around Beggar's Canyon in a tiny Pod with the wind in his hair and the deafening thrum of twin turbine engines drawing him ever closer to sweet victory... or ruinous defeat.

That was before he knew the ecstasy of punching though atmosphere with a powerful sublight drive and then delicately orchestrating all the complex systems of a hyperdrive to slide a 30-ton ship into hyperspace, leaving starlight plodding along in his wake as he soared into the heavens.

It made him smile just thinking about it.

An animal bellowed not far away. Anakin instinctively touched the lightsaber clipped to his belt, in case it turned out to be a predatory beast with an appetite for Jedi flesh, but a moment later he realized the sound was hauntingly familiar.

An eopie?

For one insane moment, Anakin thought he must be on Tatooine after all. Eopies were native to his home planet, after all, although he'd heard they had been exported to serve as hardy beasts of burden on a few other arid planets. But there was no way the Council would have chosen Qui-Gon to send on a mission to Tatooine, not after its refusal years ago to let Anakin so much as contact his mother there.

Anakin permitted himself the surge of anger he always felt when he remembered it. Promises were supposedly respected so highly in the Order that for a Jedi to give a promise was tantamount to making it reality. And yet the Council members, upon hearing that 9-year-old Anakin had sworn to his mother he would return to Tatooine and free her, were unmoved. And for what? Some rule some Jedi Masters had dreamed up back when Master Yoda was only 100 years old, for some reason Anakin had never been able to fathom, although some of the Council members had tried to explain it to him. Something about not wanting students to be poisoned by exposure to Sith teachings at an early age. Anakin didn't understand what that had to do with him or his mother. Surely they didn't think a slave woman from Tatooine was going to teach her son the ways of the Dark Side of the Force.

At least Qui-Gon had been his champion then, arguing their case far more eloquently and patiently than Anakin himself could have done. But he got nowhere. Apparently the Council hated him as much as they did Anakin. It seemed they were always blocking Qui-Gon at every turn. Anakin knew he wasn't just being paranoid about that. Even Obi-Wan, who ironically seemed to have earned the respect of nearly everyone on the Council, had alluded to it once or twice.

Anakin replaced the cover for the port wing control panel and ducked under the belly of the ship toward the starboard panel, the sand tugging at his heels with every step. He opened up the panel and began scanning the wires to ensure there were no burnouts or loose connections. Then he heard an animal bellow again, this time much closer. _Definitely_ an eopie.

Anakin stepped away from the ship and looked in the direction the sound was coming from, toward a series of low hills to the south that prevented him from viewing a broad vista of dunes like the one he could see to the north. If an eopie was coming, that might mean people were coming too. Anakin briefly debated whether he should duck his head inside the ship to warn Qui-Gon of the possibility, when the eopie precluded that by coming into sight from behind the nearest hill. It carried on its back a man wearing a rusty brown robe that flapped in the hot breeze.

Anakin suppressed a surge of joy and took several eager steps forward to get a better look; he had to be sure. Was it...?

It was! It _was_ Obi-Wan!

Anakin whooped with jubilation and turned back to the ship in time to see Qui-Gon walking calmly down the embarking ramp.

"I knew it!" Anakin shouted at him. "I knew it! You can't even pull off a good surprise, Master, I felt him coming a mile away!"

Qui-Gon smiled good-naturedly, his arms spreading wide in a gesture of defeat and his blue eyes twinkling. "You got me," he said tolerantly.

Anakin laughed and then ran toward Obi-Wan to greet him. There were other eopies following behind the first, carrying two other people and a droid, it looked like, but Anakin's eyes were on Obi-Wan, who smiled at Anakin in greeting as he slid off his beast.

"What are you doing here?" Anakin demanded of him by way of greeting as he took the reins from Obi-Wan's hand. "Master won't tell me _anything_. Did he used to do that to you? It's driving me insane."

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Obi-Wan said in a placating tone, taking a few steps back to help the next eopie's passenger down.

As the woman slid from the eopie's back down into Obi-Wan's arms, the motion lifted up the light scarf she wore on her head and sent it fluttering through the air, its surface rippling like a sinuous sandsnake as it drifted down toward the ground. Without thought, Anakin caught it nimbly before a breeze could whip it away, and turned to hand it back to the woman.

Then Anakin caught sight of her face, and stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still loosely holding the scarf out in front of him.

"Wha...?" The half-formed word slipped from Anakin's lips without him even realizing it. A cold tingle crawled from his scalp all the way down his back. His mind screamed at him the impossibility of what he was seeing, and yet it felt so real. Not like the other times. This was no dream.

Anakin looked at her again. And again. And again. And again. His eyes ran hungrily over every feature. The smooth dark hair, the soft brown eyes, the laugh lines radiating out from around her eyes. So achingly familiar. She hadn't changed a bit.

His mother.

This couldn't be real. It couldn't be her. But it _was_ real. And there she was, only a few feet away from him, just gazing at him with mild curiosity, as though she didn't even recognize him.

"Wha...?" Anakin murmured again, and tore his eyes from his mother's face back to Obi-Wan for confirmation, his expression incredulous.

"Surprise!" Obi-Wan said, wearing one of his rare ear-to-ear grins that totally transformed his face. Shmi glanced at him in puzzlement, and then looked back at Anakin uncertainly.

"Mom?" Anakin blurted out.

Shmi's eyes abruptly widened, and she took a half-step back, drawing in a sudden sharp breath. She lifted a trembling hand and pressed it against her heart. And then he saw in her eyes that she knew him at last.

"Ani?" she whispered, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. "_Ani?_"

"Mom, it's me!" Anakin cried, and he seized her by the shoulders, and then they were hugging, holding each other so tightly they couldn't breathe, and Shmi was crying and saying over and over again into his ear, "Ani? Is it really you? Is it really?"

Anakin was filled with a joy so unspeakable that he didn't dare speak himself. So long. It had been so long since he had seen her. Six years. And he had given up all hope that he would ever see her again. He could not even be ashamed at the tears that were rolling down his cheeks now. He could feel Qui-Gon's presence behind him, watching this most unlikely of happy reunions, and Anakin was filled with such a wild, fierce love for Qui-Gon, who he knew must have arranged this somehow, that he knew nothing was going to stop him from giving Qui-Gon an equally emotional embrace - when he managed to free himself from his mother, that is. She was holding him at arm's length now, eagerly searching his face, as if she were trying to find in this strong young man the traces of the little boy she had given up so many years ago. Anakin realized with some shock that she was looking _up_ at him, for the first time in their lives. His mother had never before seemed short to him.

"Oh, Ani, you've grown so handsome," she was saying, touching his cheek in awe. "And so tall! I didn't even recognize you." Shmi wiped the tears off her cheek before turning uncertainly to Obi-Wan.

"I don't understand, sir," she said in a tremulous voice. "Did you know this was my son?"

"Of course he knows!" Anakin cried before Obi-Wan could answer. "This is Obi-Wan, Mom, he used to be Qui-Gon's student, before me!"

"You're a Jedi?" Shmi said in shock.

"You didn't know?" Anakin asked Shmi, but without waiting for a reply he whirled on Obi-Wan. "How did you do this?" he demanded. "How did you find her, how did you get her here?"

Obi-Wan raised his hands in denial. "Don't look at me. This was all Qui-Gon's idea. I was just the messenger."

Anakin spun to face Qui-Gon. "How did you do this?" he repeated. Following his gaze, Shmi noticed Qui-Gon for the first time, and her eyes brightened in recognition.

"The Council doesn't know we're here, do they?" Anakin persisted.

"Actually, they do," Qui-Gon said. "Or at least Master Yoda does. Although he's going to pretend he doesn't. Obi-Wan and I had a little talk with him, and we were given unofficial permission to come and free your mother. You'll need to keep quiet about it around the other students, though."

"I don't believe it," Anakin said. He laughed giddily and ran this fingers through his cropped hair. "I just don't... wait a minute. Did you say we get to _free_ her? This isn't just a visit?"

"Watto already sold me," Shmi jumped in eagerly. Suddenly all her reticence had vanished, now that she knew herself to be in the presence of friends.

"...and speaking of which, I believe this belongs to you."

Anakin turned in surprise as Ivan, whose presence he hadn't even noticed in all the hubbub, leaned past Obi-Wan and handed Shmi the datachip that served as her deed of ownership. Shmi took it from his fingers with a sort of quiet reverence.

"Thank you," she said. She directed it first at Ivan, but then turned to Obi-Wan and repeated it again: "Thank you." The words were simple, but never before had Shmi spoken them with such feeling.

"I'm only sorry we had to keep you in the dark for so long," Obi-Wan said. "You must have thought me quite the insensitive rogue."

"No, not at all," Shmi said sincerely, although they both knew better. "Your slave- I mean-"

"My Padawan, Ivan," Obi-Wan quickly supplied.

"Yes," Shmi said with a relieved smile. "Your Padawan. He looked after me. He gave me hope." She bestowed a gentle smile on Ivan, who returned it with his customary ease of manner and said warmly, "It was my pleasure."

Shmi looked at Qui-Gon last of all.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For all that you've done. Not just for my sake, but for keeping my Ani safe. For making him a Jedi. I can never thank you enough for that." Shmi disentangled herself from Anakin long enough to embrace Qui-Gon. Then she moved on to hug Obi-Wan, and Anakin finally got to give his rather exuberant hug to Qui-Gon, and pretty soon both Skywalkers had embraced all of the Jedi. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon looked at each other questioningly, shrugged simultaneously, and hugged each other too. Then there was nothing for it but for them both to hug Ivan, too.

Obi-Wan couldn't deny feeling a certain relief as he embraced his Padawan, and suddenly he realized that ever since Ivan's illness he had been bowed down under a quiet dread buried so deep he hadn't even consciously acknowledged it, a fear that he could have lost Ivan, and in a flash of insight he did not merely understand, but actually _felt,_ the same joy that Anakin and Shmi were feeling now. A joy made all the more deeper by the knowledge that it could all have just as easily ended in grief. Life could be cruel, but the Force could be merciful.

And today it was.

Obi-Wan reached out and gave Ivan's thin braid a rough tug. Ivan looked at him and smiled knowingly, as though he understood exactly what Obi-Wan meant by the gesture. It was beginning to be positively uncanny, how well Ivan could read him. Four years of building a Force-bond - and a friendship - would do that, Obi-Wan supposed.

"I can't wait to hear the whole story," Anakin said, looking around at everyone with a broad smile, his arm wrapped protectively around Shmi's shoulders. "Let's get in out of the wind, and all of you can tell me all about it."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

For the next hour, the cockpit was filled with the happy chatter of four Jedi and one recently freed woman, all talking over and around each other as they tried to fill each other in on everything that had happened since they had last seen each other. Anakin was in the thick of it all, trying to find out what his mother had been doing for all these years and how Watto had treated her without Anakin there to protect her, how Qui-Gon had talked the Council at last into permitting them to return to Tatooine, and how Obi-Wan and Ivan had managed to buy her, while he simultaneously tried to answer a constant stream of questions from Shmi about what he had been doing all this time, what his missions were like, and what it was like to live in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

At last, the euphoria they were all feeling settled down a bit, and there was a lull in the conversation. Anakin put his arm around his mother's shoulders and gave her a squeeze, and she laid her head on his shoulder contentedly.

Obi-Wan smiled to see mother and son together, but then with a regretful sigh he stood and nudged Ivan.

"The suns will set soon," he said, "and we have a shipment of plasma to deliver. We better get going."

"Plasma?" Anakin asked curiously.

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's payment to Watto, for your mother. We promised we'd have it to him by sundown."

"Where in the galaxy did you get plasma?" Anakin asked in surprise.

"It was a gift from Queen Amidala of Naboo. She very generously offered to help free your mother."

"_Padme?" _Anakin exclaimed, sitting up straighter in amazement. "She did that? For me?"

"Padme?" Shmi repeated. "You mean that nice young lady you brought with you when you came to Tatooine before? She was a _queen_? But she was so young!"

"That's her," Ivan affirmed. "We explained the situation to her, and she was quick to volunteer to help. She said to tell you two, Anakin and Shmi, that she has never forgotten the help you both gave her during the crisis of Naboo, and that she considers this the least she could do for you in return."

Anakin was breathing more quickly, his shoulders moving up and down in quick bursts. "I can't believe she remembers me," he said. "I can't believe…" He shook his head and turned to Qui-Gon eagerly. "Master, may I send her a message to thank her?"

"I think you'd better," Qui-Gon said. A wide grin spread across Anakin's face.

"Well, then," Obi-Wan said, looking at Qui-Gon. "If you wouldn't mind giving us a lift to our ship, we'll take the plasma to Watto and then I believe we can all be on our way home. Unless you have any unfinished business to tend to here, first?" he added to Shmi as an afterthought.

Suddenly Shmi looked uncertain. "We're going to Coruscant?"

"Don't worry," Qui-Gon said. "We've already made arrangements for you. I have a friend who runs a café in Cocotown – that's in a district not too far from the Jedi Temple – and he said he would be happy to give you a position there. He has a spare room in his apartment where you can stay. He's a good sort; he'll look after you, and you'll be able to see Anakin whenever he's at the Temple for training or on leave."

"That was very kind of you," Shmi said slowly. She seemed about to say something else, then closed her mouth again, looking conflicted.

"What, mom?" Anakin asked. "What's wrong?"

"If you'd prefer a different arrangement, we can certainly do so," Qui-Gon cut in smoothly. "You can of course work and live wherever you'd like. You're a free woman."

"No, I'm sure the arrangements you made are fine," Shmi said quickly. "I'm very grateful to you for your considerations. It's just that I… I never thought of going to Coruscant… I assumed I would stay here, until… until…"

"What's to stay for?" Anakin said. "I, for one, am never going to waste another thought on Tatooine for the rest of my life."

Shmi rubbed her hands nervously together. "Well, I had… I had…"

"What?"

"… plans," Shmi finished. It sounded almost like a question.

"What plans?" Anakin demanded.

Shmi seemed to steel herself. "Ani, why don't we go outside to talk for a minute?"

"Okay…" Anakin said slowly, glancing at Qui-Gon for permission, and receiving a nod.

Anakin and Shmi together descended the ship's embarking ramp, and Anakin pressed the button to retract the ramp, sealing the ship against sand and leaving them free to speak in private. Tethered to stakes outside, the four eopies snuffled contentedly through the scrub brush, looking for lichens to eat.

Shmi turned to look at the twin suns of Tatooine where they hung near the horizon, the white light they cast changing into softer and warmer tones as sundown approached. The sky to the west was rose-colored, adding a blush to the sand dunes rolling away in the distance. Anakin joined her, and for a few moments they were silent, each buried in their own thoughts. Anakin was the first to break the silence.

"What plans?" he asked.

Shmi sighed. "Ani, while you were gone, something… unexpected happened. I still can't believe, sometimes…" Anakin was surprised to see a small smile on his mother's face, one unlike any expression he'd ever seen her wear before, a smile untouched by sorrow, but yet a little timid. Anakin frowned and studied her intently. What had happened to his mother?

"I met a man, one of Watto's customers," she continued. "A moisture farmer, from Anchorhead. He came often, and we got to know each other, and eventually, he…" She met Anakin's eyes and lifted her chin, a gentle joy radiating from her face. "Ani, he asked me to marry him."

"_Marry_ him?" Anakin repeated in shock. "Mom, you're… you're _married_?"

"Not yet," Shmi said. "We were planning to; he was saving up his money to buy me so we could."

Anakin was completely stunned. Here was something he had never envisioned. Never even thought of the possibility. He had long ago accepted the fact that he only had one parent, that his mother was alone, always had been, always would be. It had always been just the two of them, mother and son, giving and sharing love between them. It had always been enough. At least, it had been for him. Anakin was startled to think that perhaps it had not been enough for his mother.

Shmi was watching his reaction. "I know this must be quite a surprise, Ani," she said softly. "It was for me, too. I still can't believe it's real myself, sometimes."

"_Who?_" Anakin managed to choke out.

"His name is Cliegg Lars. He has a son, too, named Owen, about your age. They have a moisture farm some distance from Anchorhead. They live a simple life, out there away from the spaceports, but a good one. He's a good man. I think… I think I'll be happy with him, Ani."

"You mean you're going to... you're going to..." Anakin was incredulous. "So that's it then? You've already made your choice? You're going to _stay_ here?"

"I don't know." Shmi's joyous expression faltered. "I don't know. I didn't expect this, Ani. Please understand. I wasn't choosing him over you. I wasn't sure if you would be able to come back-"

"I promised you I would," Anakin said sharply.

"I know, Ani, I know. But I didn't know if it would be within your power. And even if you did come back to free me, I knew youwouldn't _stay_ here. I gave you to the Jedi, sweetheart. You aren't mine anymore. Your destiny has already taken you from me. You're a Jedi. That's who you were born to be."

"I can be both," Anakin said with some heat. "A Jedi, and your son. Don't stay. There's nothing for you here. Come to Coruscant, and we'll be able to see each other, and it will be like it was before."

"I don't think it will," Shmi said thoughtfully. "You've changed. A great deal. I can see that already. You're older. Wiser." She smiled a little. "And bolder. Freedom suits you very well, my son." She touched his cheek with dry fingertips. "I think it will suit me, too. Your friends have been very kind to go to so much trouble for me. But can you really picture me on Coruscant, Ani? I'm trying to, but it just… it just doesn't feel right."

Anakin shook his head wearily. "Mom, when I left here with Qui-Gon, and you told me your place was here, I guess I thought... I don't know, I guess I thought you were just saying that to make me feel better about leaving you behind."

Shmi sighed. "Maybe I was, a little," she admitted. "But it turned out to be true, didn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be like that, Mom. You don't have to stay here. Come to Coruscant with me. Please. Qui-Gon has everything arranged. I know it's different from what you're used to, but you'll like it there, I promise. And we'll see each other whenever I come home on leave, and we'll..."

Shmi cut him off with a gesture. "I made a promise, Ani. I promised to marry Cliegg as soon as I was free. And I love him. I _want_ this."

"Wait!" Anakin's eyes lit up. "_He_ promised to marry _you_, too! That means that if you come to Coruscant with me… he'll _have _to follow you!"

Shmi gave Anakin a look of mild remonstrance and shook her head. "Oh, Ani. That isn't how a marriage works. Marriage is not about wielding power over your partner, making them do what _you_ want. It's about working together. Helping each other find happiness. Cliegg would never be happy living in a city. Farming is in his blood."

Anakin clenched his fists in frustration. "I promised I would come back and free you!"

"And you have."

"But I can't keep you safe if you _stay_ here!"

"I'll be safe enough. Tatooine isn't such a bad place, Ani. You don't know that because you've only known a slave's life here. It isn't like that out in the country, away from the criminals and the gambling and the slave masters. The moisture farmers all look out for each other. Like a family. And I will have Cliegg and his son to look after me."

Anakin stared at the horizon, blind to the beauty of the sunset, the muscles along his jaw working. "You don't need me," he said flatly.

"I _do_ need you, Ani. I need you to follow your dream. Become who you were born to be." Her eyes were tinged with sorrow. "It's you who doesn't need me anymore. Not really." She kissed him warmly. "I'm so proud of you, Ani."

* * *

><p>Anakin sat next to his mother in silence during the short flight to the deserted area where Obi-Wan and Ivan had parked their ship. Shmi had explained to the others the situation, and it was agreed that Qui-Gon and Anakin would take her to the Lars homestead while Obi-Wan and Ivan delivered the plasma to Watto and returned to Coruscant.<p>

Upon landing, Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan and Ivan lead the eopies down the embarking ramp, unload the plasma tanks from the other ship and secure them to the backs of two of the animals. They would have to move quickly to make it back to Watto's shop before night fell. When they were ready to go, Obi-Wan sighed and looked at Qui-Gon.

"Well, that was an unexpected development," he said with his usual understatement.

Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're hardly better than slavemasters," he said with a trace of bitterness, and in response to Obi-Wan's questioning look, he added, "It never once occurred to me to ask Shmi what her wishes were. You?"

"No," Obi-Wan admitted. "I assumed she would want to come with Anakin. You're right. We've been dreadfully arrogant."

"We were trying to help," Ivan said. "We _did_ help. We've given a human being her freedom. It was still worth it."

"Yes, that's true," Obi-Wan agreed, taking some heart.

"But we raised Anakin's hopes," Qui-Gon said in a low voice, "only to have them dashed again. I'm not sure how he'll react to that."

"The situation has at least improved, nevertheless," Obi-Wan pointed out. "There's no reason now why we can't make arrangements for Shmi to have the use of the nearest subspace transceiver, so they can speak to one another. And you may even be able to bring him for a visit from time to time, when you're on leave."

"That's likely to be infrequent," Qui-Gon said. "Despite the fact that the Order has more Knights than it has in thousands of years, the Council is nearly overwhelmed these days, both with requests from the Senate and from individual systems in need. Duty must come first. I may only be able to bring him once every few years."

"Will you let him stay for a while now?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon nodded. "We'll stay long enough for Anakin to attend the wedding, I think, and let him get to know his stepfather and stepbrother a little. I imagine Master Yoda won't begrudge us a few weeks." He sighed. "Anakin will use the time to try to talk Shmi out of it, I'm sure, but maybe with a little time he'll come to accept her wishes. I doubt she'll change her mind. You wouldn't think it to look at her, but I think Anakin gets his strong will from her."

"She is a remarkable woman," Obi-Wan agreed.

"No wonder Anakin was so determined to come back for her," Ivan said.

Qui-Gon patted them both on the shoulder. "Thank you both for your help. You didn't need to get involved, but I'm grateful you did, and I know Anakin is too."

Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgement. "I hope everything goes well at the homestead."

"I'm sure it will. Safe journey."

"May the Force be with you." Obi-Wan and Ivan settled themselves on their eopies and urged the beasts forward.

Somehow reluctant to return to the ship, Qui-Gon stayed outside and watched them plod westward. The eopies moved with slow deliberate strides through the dry sand, using their sharp eyes to pick out a path among the scrub brush and loose rocks strewn across the landscape. Obi-Wan and Ivan swayed gracefully in rhythm with their mounts' movements, looking for all the world as though they had been riding such animals all their lives. In a few minutes the caravan had disappeared behind one of the rolling hills of sand, just as the light began to fade.

Qui-Gon shook himself out of his reverie and turned back to the ship. It was time to take Shmi Skywalker home.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

><p>AN: Well, folks, it's almost over. Only one chapter left to post on this, Part 1 of my Forcestone series. I know *I* am interested in continuing on to write Part 2, but I am curious to know how many of you out there are interested in continuing to read! Leave a review and let me know!


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The politician accepted with a nod the deferential bows of the Senators who had come to see him, and allowed a pleasant smile to linger on his lips as they swept out of his expansive office with the swish of silken robes.

The smile vanished as the doors swiftly shut behind them and a profound silence filled the room at last. Ensuring the Senators liked him was part of the plan, it was true, but that didn't mean _he_ had to like _them_, the prating fools.

Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, rose from his desk and strolled over to the expansive curved window that afforded him an unrivaled view of the Senate District. The sun was setting in a blood-red sky as the revolving mirrors in orbit twinkled on to bathe the sides of the buildings in reflected light. Cloud cars traveling in tightly formed lines between the skyscrapers began to switch on their running lights, appearing from this vaunted position to be nothing more than insects. Insignificant little creatures buzzing about on their own meaningless little errands, their ambitions as miniscule as themselves. Palpatine felt his lips curl in disgust.

The doors behind him swished open again and the politician heard the familiar flapping footsteps of his assistant approach, and the clatter of the datapads on his desk being gathered for filing away. Palpatine ignored this. Just another insect scurrying about. A small creature doing small things. Right now he only had one small creature on his mind, and it wasn't his assistant.

Palpatine stared unseeing out the window._ I could do it_, he thought. _I could kill him now. Perhaps I should._

At this stage it would be simple. Darth Tyranus was straining at the leash to kill a Jedi, any Jedi. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was no Sith-slayer, despite the title his exultant peers in the Jedi Temple had given him after the Battle of Naboo. One moment of dumb blind luck had given him a reputation greater than what he deserved. Tyranus would have no trouble putting him out of his misery. A quiet assassination would be just the thing. Ambush him during one of his assignments. Get in, kill him, get out. Leave no traces, nothing for the Council to investigate. The identities of Sith must stay hidden a little longer. The Padawan would have to die, too. There should be no witnesses. What was the boy's name again? Ah well, it didn't matter. Killing him would be mere child's play for Tyranus.

The assistant was speaking to him now, cutting into his thoughts, asking if there was anything else he needed. Palpatine assured the Rodian that he required nothing else for the day, and would now retire. It babbled some polite nothing and mercifully left the room. The politician turned his back on the darkening skies outside and pressed his hand against a touchpad on the wall. The concealed door that led to his personal quarters slid open and he stepped through into the darkness beyond.

* * *

><p>Palpatine's valet was waiting for him in the dressing room, the old man rising to greet the Chancellor.<p>

"Good evening, Your Excellency," the valet said, bowing as deeply as his age-stiffened joints would permit.

"Good evening, Tepend."

"I hope you are well, sir?"

"Perfectly well, thank you."

"May I take your cloak, sir?" As always, Tepend was solicitous but not fawning, a trait the Chancellor valued highly.

"No, thank you, Tepend. I will undress myself tonight," Palpatine replied.

Tepend was too experienced a servant to betray his surprise at this change in the routine. He merely dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Very well, sir."

"You may wait outside," Palpatine said. "I will summon you when all is ready."

"As you wish, Your Excellency." Tepend opened a drawer in one of the many floor-to-ceiling wardrobes lining the perimeter of the room, withdrew a silken sleeping kimono and draped it neatly on the elaborate trifold dressing screen in the corner of the room before retreating to the antechamber. There he would await his opportunity to re-enter the room and inspect the garments the Chancellor wore today and either store them away carefully or see it it that any necessary repairs or cleaning were completed by the staff in a timely fashion.

Alone again, Palpatine seated himself on a settee and with deliberate movements removed first one and then the other of his elaborately tooled Emori leather boots. Next the stockings came off and were replaced by soft-soled dark slippers.

The politician rose and untied the narrow ribbon that fastened his elegantly draped ferraiolo cloak. He did not restrain the sigh of relief that slipped from his lips as the rich red velvet material dropped off his shoulders and crumpled onto the carpet. His Master had taught him to make full use of the advantages deception could give him, and he had been an apt pupil - more apt, in point of fact, than any other student of the Sith art of duplicity - but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it, this business of wearing another man's clothes and speaking through another man's voice and smiling through another man's face. As much as Chancellor Palpatine was hated by certain factions within the Republic, he could not be hated more by the shadow-man that coiled behind his mask.

In the silence of his dressing room, Palpatine unbuttoned his surcoat, his fingertips brushing the elaborately brocaded garment as he worked his way down. At last, the surcoat fell open and he peeled it off and let it, too, fall. Next he removed the cuff links and jeweled broach that adorned his silken kimono, and then removed the kimono itself. Layer by layer, the trappings of the politician began to fall away.

The man closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure, feeling more and more of himself return with each garment's removal. So tiresome, it was, to play his chosen part. Sometimes these costly clothes felt more like fetters than adornments. One day he would not need them. One day the galaxy would see his true guise. It wouldn't be long now. He had been so patient, and he would be patient for a while yet.

The last of the garments fell away and the man shuddered sinuously, as a snake will when it sheds its skin. At last, the politician was gone, and in his place the shadow inside stood revealed.

Darth Sidious slowly drew in breath, feeling the dark ectasy roiling in the Force as it responded to the barest hints of his presence snaking out into its currents. But he knew better than to let himself go fully, as much as he might wish to. Instead, by long discipline, he took the necessary steps to ensure that the Force remained clouded enough to hide his presence from any other beings that might be touching the Force at that moment.

No time to linger here. There was work to be done tonight. Looking with disdain at the patterned ecru sleeping kimono Palpatine's valet had laid out, Darth Sidious instead opened another drawer, this one little-used, and removed a more appropriate garment.

He held the folded bundle in his arms for a moment and rubbed his palm reverently over the familiar surface, and then let the rough material of this other robe slide through his fingers until he held it by the top, its thick ebony folds dropping heavily down to strike the floor with a muffled thud.

The Sith Lord slid his left arm into a sleeve robe, and then his right, feeling the welcome weight of the robe settle on his shoulders. He pulled the edges tight around his throat and began fastening the tiny hooks on the front of the robe, starting at the top and working his way down. When he was finished, he was draped in black folds from shoulder to floor,seeming in the light of a dozen wall lamps to be a dark haze in the center of the room, a black hole surrounded by glittering stars. As the crowning touch, he reached back and lifted up the voluminous black hood, draping it low over his face so that only the lower portion of his face could be seen.

Sidious moved to the controls on the wall, his slippered feet making no sound on the carpet, and pressed the button to admit Palpatine's valet.

The door hissed upward and the old man stepped into the dressing room once again. After catching a glimpse of the dark figure standing across from him, the valet started with surprise.

But a moment later he seemed to recognize the Chancellor's features in the shadow of that dark hood and he quickly covered his unfortunate reaction by bowing once again and inquiring in a polite tone whether the Chancellor had found everything he needed.

Darth Sidious merely stared at the old man, having nothing to say to him and no inclination to waste a single breath on the insignificant creature.

The valet grew nervous under this intense gaze; although he could not see the Chancellor's eyes in the darkness of that hood, he could sense an unspoken malice directed at him, and despite the fact that he had served many beings of great power and even greater vagrancies of mood, he felt himself inexplicably break into a sweat.

"Is there anything further I can get you this evening, Your Excellency?" he managed to get out.

"You will refer to me as 'My Lord,'" the shadowed man spat out in a carefully controlled rage.

"My- My Lord," the valet amended quickly. "What else can I do for you, My Lord?"

Sidious was gratified at the way the old man's voice trembled ever so slightly, and he deigned to respond.

"I will be working now. Alone. See to it I am not disturbed."

The warm tenor of his voice, which only minutes ago had been touched by the melodic cadence of the Naboo, had subtly changed: now it sounded deeper, and more nasal. The valet heard the difference without consciously acknowledging it, and felt the icy hand of fear tighten about his throat.

"As you wish, Your Ex-, I mean, My Lord..."

"Get out of my sight," Darth Sidious commanded in that strange new timbre, and the valet turned and fled blindly from the room, treading on the Chancellor's velvety red cloak as he went.

* * *

><p>Sidious did not waste another thought on his valet, but turned now to the matter at hand. Moving silently on slippered feet, the Sith Lord entered another room in his suite: his private archive. The square room was lined on all sides with equipment: secure databases, holoprojectors, vidscreens, HoloNet links, analytical software, subspace transceivers, holomaps. Sidious pressed his palm against another touchpad and activated the particular database he was interested in. A moment later, the equipment around him flared to life, and the dim room was filled with the flickering blue light of dozens of holograms and vids, and the conflicting sounds of numerous recordings filled the air.<p>

Most beings would find the resulting chaos disorienting, but Sidious began to slowly pace around the room, studying each recording in turn as he passed it by.

The first holorecording that caught his eye was one of his predecessor, then-Senator Valorum, making his report to the Senate on the Republic's victory in the Stark Hyperspace War. Behind him stood Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing as representatives of the Jedi team who had made the victory possible. Next to it was a screen displaying Kenobi's written report to the Senate's Military Oversight committee regarding the portion of the mission he had been involved in. Sidious skimmed through it briefly, though he had already read it so many times that a review was hardly necessary. Frowning, he moved on.

Next came a flickering hologram of Jurnel Arrant – from a personal interview conducted by Senator By Bluss - describing in scathing tones a trade agreement mediated by Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi during one of his early assignments – an agreement that had eventually led the man's business to financial ruin. The man was eloquently brutal in his denunciation of Kenobi and his favoritism toward the Bomodon delegation. Meanwhile, on the next console, Satine Kryze, fresh from the ceremony officially confirming her title of Duchess of Mandalore, was warmly singing Kenobi's praises to the HoloNet reporters in attendance. A nearby screen displayed the text of a scholarly paper Kenobi had submitted to the Society of Political History regarding the ever-changing dynamics between the Republic government and the Jedi Order, next to a grainy camdroid vid of the Knight entering a café in Cocotown.

Sidious surveyed the accumulated information with a satisfied air. This room contained every scrap of intelligence on Obi-Wan Kenobi that money could buy or influence could wrangle.

There were the HoloNet recordings, of course, mostly consisting of news reports from throughout the last 17 years that related to missions Kenobi had participated in, both as an apprentice and a Knight. Every statement he had ever made to the media, every official function he had attended, even the commentaries where local political analysts tore apart his diplomatic decisions and military leaders pontificated about his combat strategies.

Many of the recent vids had been taken surreptitiously via camdroid, tiny machines that had been deployed to follow Kenobi everywhere he went on Coruscant the moment he left the security of the Jedi Temple, meticulously cataloging every building he entered, every purchase he made, who his professional contacts were, who his friends were - and what he said to them, whenever it was possible to pick up audio.

Sidious hadn't neglected to gather first-person accounts of Kenobi. There were scores of interviews, some conducted by himself in his office, others conducted by various aides and Senators in his camp, each one centered on someone who had known Kenobi personally, whether fellow Jedi, politician or civilian. Some were eager to flatter the man; others, quick to lambast him for making decisions that weren't in their favor. Little did any of them suspect that a Dark Lord of the Sith would make use of their insights.  
>In some ways, the transcripts of speeches and essays Kenobi had prepared for various academic organizations on Coruscant were more useful. He was obviously less guarded when speaking before an audience filled with those of like minds, and he spoke and wrote with a clear and incisive voice that gave a great deal of insight into what he thought, and why. He was very nearly a match for Sidious' new acolyte when it came to diplomatic theory, which was saying something indeed, and he had a fairly good grasp on military tactics as well. Kenobi had a brilliant mind, it must be admitted, if he did put it to rather mundane uses.<p>

Easiest to obtain were the holorecordings of each visit Kenobi had made to Palpatine, the hidden cams picking up both audio and visual in perfect quality, revealing every microexpression, every hesitation, every nuance of tone from the subject. In and of themselves, these holorecordings weren't as valuable as they might seem, since Kenobi would be a fool not to know that the Chancellor of the Supreme Republic would have cams in his office and that they would likely be scrutinized by his team for any useful political information Kenobi might inadvertently provide. So cautious, this one. So guarded with his words. Not at all like the other Jedi now under the watchful eye of the Sith Lord.

Darth Sidious had a similar avalanche on information on Anakin Skywalker, to which he had devoted much study, but today his thoughts were on Kenobi, whose friendship with Skywalker was growing day by day. Sidious had spent years collecting the images, sounds and text that now occupied every electronic device in this room. He had studied every file countless times, noting every nuance and analyzing every detail.

But more valuable to Sidious were the impressions in the Force he had received during the visits. Kenobi was surprisingly strong-minded for a Jedi without the advantages of a powerful natural connection to the Force, such as Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker had, but even so he was no match for a Dark Lord of the Sith. Sidious had penetrated his mind, and learned much.

Enough to pinpoint his weakness. For Kenobi, like all mortal beings - only excepting Sidious himself - had them. The only question that remained now was how best to exploit them.

The first option Sidious had considered, and the easiest to accomplish, was assassination. Simply kill Kenobi, before he could fulfill the vision of the future Sidious had seen in which the galactic war he was planning raised up not one but two heroes to whom the galaxy would look to for salvation: Kenobi and Skywalker. Skywalker and Kenobi. The unbeatable Jedi duo. Or so the people would say as they trembled in fear for the survival of the Republic, grasping on to any scrap of hope for its salvation, whether imagined or real.

This new vision would not have troubled Sidious much, since it made no difference to him whether the Republic won or lost the approaching conflict. He would be satisfied to see the galaxy ruled in the name of Palpatine or Sidious. But he was troubled, by the effect Kenobi's presence could have on Skywalker during a time Sidious had intended Skywalker to be alone, friendless and masterless, and vulnerable to the seductions of the Dark Side. Kenobi himself posed little threat to the Grand Plan, but he was just charismatic enough to awaken in Skywalker the same fierce loyalty the boy gave to all he deemed worthy of his friendship. And therein lay the true danger. Kenobi could anchor Skywalker, could keep his eyes fixed on the destiny the dogma-blinded Jedi had inflicted on the so-called Chosen One: to defeat the Sith once and for all. Malleable as Skywalker was, he might allow Kenobi to guide him further into the light. Sidious could not permit this to happen.

Assassination. It was tempting. He could kill Kenobi easily. Darth Tyranus would not find the task difficult – or disagreeable in the least.

However, the easiest way was not always the best way. Killing Kenobi could have unforeseen consequences. The Dark Side of the Force did not show Sidious all the possibilities, only the most likely ones.

He could not afford to make a mistake now. Skywalker was unique, not only among living Force users, but in all the history of the galaxy, as far back into the depths of time as Sith records went. One such as him would not come again. There was no room for error. Killing Kenobi might only provide opportunity for some other Jedi Master to take Skywalker under his wing, one possibly even worse. Sidious imagined Yoda taking on Skywalker's training himself, and a shudder of distaste crawled down his spine. Best to avoid that, if it could be done.

Then again… there was a second option.

Here he paused, and gave particular attention to the only holovid in the room that showed Obi-Wan Kenobi dressed in garb other than the traditional Jedi tunic and robe. Instead he wore a simple woven shirt under a dark blue overcoat; collar turned up, but buttons left undone, so that each step he took revealed the flash of a blaster strapped to his leg. Here he was young, scarcely into adolescence, but his face was grave beyond his years as he silently walked past somber rows of children and teenagers.  
>He carried a dead girl cradled in his arms.<p>

This holovid was a favorite of the propaganda machine on Melida-Daan. They loved to use it to illustrate the evils of violence and try to convince the populace that no matter how deeply they might disagree with the policies of its government, bloodshed was not the answer. Seventeen years ago, the planet had been nearly torn apart by civil war, but in the intervening years, its leaders had managed to establish a new rule of law and keep the peace for the most part, although violence still broke out from time to time on a smaller scale. Whenever it did, government propagandists dusted off this old holovid and splashed it across the local HoloNet channels in an effort to bring the populace back under control. Remember Our Beloved Martyr, the voiceovers pleaded. Every bomb you set off could kill the next generation's Cerasi.

It also served as a less-than-subtle reminder that the current government had been founded in part by a Jedi, a claim few systems could make, and a claim Melida-Daan made proudly. Never mind that Kenobi had renounced his Jedi affiliation before taking control of the planet, along with the now-martyred girl and a charismatic boy who organized a group of children and teenagers called simply "The Young."

Sidious loved the holovid for another reason entirely.

He stilled his pacing and watched the holovid play out to the end. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, struggling valiantly to maintain his Jedi calm, carried the body of his friend through the Hall of Evidence, past rows of mourning members of The Young. But as he mounted the steps up to the stone platform where the body was to be laid, he lost the battle with his emotions, and grief twisted his face as he gently lowered the body to its resting place.

Sidious felt his lips curl up into a smile like looked more like a grimace. Kenobi looked almost human here, compared to his impenetrable buttoned-up manner during his visits to Palpatine. He scarcely seemed the same person. But thanks to his Force-probing, Sidious knew that the boy-Kenobi, seething with a whirlpool of love and pain and passion and anger, still existed inside the man - buried deep, fathoms deep, so deep that Kenobi himself was unaware of it - but still there.

It was this holovid, and the story behind it, that had led Sidious to reconsider plan to assassinate Kenobi.

Sidious picked up the holodisk emitting the image of the boy Kenobi kneeling at the foot of his martyred friend's deathbed. Idly he let his hand pass in and out of the projection, causing the image to flicker and blur with static.

This image was the key to uncovering Kenobi's weakness. And it had started on Melida-Daan.

Ironically, despite the evidence to the contrary, Kenobi believed himself to be wholly loyal to the Jedi Order. But that wasn't quite right. In truth, Kenobi was wholly loyal to whatever cause he believed in the most. For most of his life, that cause had been the Jedi Order. For a brief time, it had been Melida-Daan. Or, perhaps more accurately, it had been Cerasi. Because Palpatine's casually curious question about the mission one day had awoken in Kenobi a chaotic storm of emotions, primary among them shame, but the mere mention of Cerasi's name a few minutes later had instantly calmed that tempest into a smooth and steady stream of a single emotion: tenderness. Kenobi may not have realized it himself, but his shocking decision to disobey Master Jinn's command and assist with The Young's guerrilla war had much to do with his feelings for Cerasi. The boy had been too young, perhaps, to understand what he was feeling for her and why, yet he had been just old enough to act on those feelings. He had abandoned the Jedi path, the only life he had ever known, instead choosing to walk by the side of this girl and make her path his own. There had been no trace of selfishness in his choice. He had done it out of a desire to make her happy.

Unfortunately for him, Cerasi ended up dead. Kenobi had abased himself before his Master and the Jedi Council, and in the end they had taken him back. By all appearances, Kenobi had once again given his complete allegiance to the Jedi Order. Kenobi himself believed this. The Council certainly did. But Sidious knew better. History had already repeated itself.

The audience Palpatine had held with Jinn and Kenobi and their apprentices after the arrest of the slaver Krayn had been all too revealing. Kenobi, normally so focused on his work and his duty, had been embarrassingly distracted by the presence of the Padawan the Jedi had sent to spy on Krayn. Siri Tachi.

There was desire there. Even a Force-blind Apilid worm could have seen that. Tachi was attractive and full of a vivacious energy that would appeal to plenty of red-blooded young men. And Sidious had learned there was a long and storied history between the two that had gradually evolved into a deep and abiding friendship. But that wasn't all. Kenobi's Force-aura had fairly crackled with electricity at every point that it touched Tachi's. So different they were in the Force, but the differences only amplified the tension binding them together. This was more than mere infatuation. This could be the beginning of a full-blown obsession.

Seeing through the eyes of the Force, penetrating deep into the Jedi Knight's mind, Sidious had sensed within Kenobi a powerful urge to devote himself to this woman to the exclusion of all else that he loved, as he had devoted himself to Cerasi. This time Kenobi was aware of that urge, and he was fighting it. For now, he was succeeding. It was possible that one day he would fail.

Darth Sidious made it his business to turn possibilities into reality.

If Kenobi could once again be lured away from the Jedi Order…

Yes, Sidious had come up with a new plan, a better one than merely killing Kenobi. If Kenobi was so determined to be friends with Skywalker, then Sidious would let him. Let them fight together, laugh together, grieve together, talk together, eat together, live together, learn together. Yes, in the end the two of them would stand together… and fall together.

For Sidious would ensure that Kenobi would fall. One does not waste good material. And Kenobi had the potential to serve as a Dark Acolyte, at least for a short time. Long enough to drag Skywalker down with him. For Skywalker, looking at Kenobi with eyes of admiration for his wisdom and gratitude for his friendship, would follow him wherever he led. Even if he led Skywalker right out of the Order. That path was already being laid, as the Jedi Council in their ignorance drove Qui-Gon Jinn further and further from their good graces, and Skywalker with him. Yes, Kenobi would finish what Jinn had inadvertently started. All it would require would be reminding Kenobi of all the reasons he already had to hate the leadership of the Order. Was it not their inaction that had led to Cerasi's death? Was it not their harsh rules against attachments that denied Kenobi the pleasure of being with the woman he now loved?

Sidious would see to it that for the love of Tachi, Kenobi would leave the Order. Then, once he had served his purpose in leading Skywalker away from the light, he would die after all. Perhaps his death would even become the final blow to Skywalker's self-control.

But first things first. Sidious had yet to strike the first blow against Skywalker. The Sith Lord permitted himself an amused smile when he thought of what was to come. Ironic, that for all their differences of personality, Skywalker and Kenobi shared the same weakness: they both gave too much of their love to a woman: Kenobi to Tachi, and Skywalker to his mother. Manipulating them would be as simple as introducing threats to the one they loved. Shmi Skywalker, after all, lived on a planet filled with dangers: sandstorms, marauding slavers, Tusken massacres. So many ways she could die. As for Tachi, well, once the war began she would be in no end of danger, along with all the other Jedi.

Darth Sidious touched a control, and abruptly the recordings filling the room fell silent. Darkness reigned. Long familiarity permitted Sidious to move through the black shadows with confidence until he reached the subspace transceiver and activated a signal.

He didn't have to wait long for the response. Soon an amber light flared to indicate an incoming signal, and Sidious stepped on the glowing circle inlaid on the floor, the equipment instantly scanning his image and sending it hurtling across the lightyears in between himself and the hooded figure whose flickering hologram was now bowing low before him.

"What do you wish, my Master?" The voice of Darth Tyranus, normally low and husky, sounded tinny coming from the holoprocessors, but the carefully obsequious tone carried perfectly well. She was getting better at pretending to be a submissive apprentice, at least. If only Sidious could hope she would be able to keep it up on a permanent basis.

Based on previous history, it didn't seem likely.

"What progress have you made?" Sidious asked.

Tyranus kept her head lowered respectfully, so that her entire face was shadowed by her hood. "Gunray and the others are encouraged by your offers, my Lord, but they fear the reprisal of the Jedi when it becomes clear they are no longer adhering to the ban on droid armies."

"Their cowardice is great, but it is no match for their greed," Sidious reminded her. "Make your promises more generous, if you must."

"As you wish. My Lord will make good on every one of them, of course."

If Tyranus could wield her lightsabers as effectively as she did sarcasm, Sidious might be worried. Instead he ignored her insolence and pressed on. "I have an additional task for you, Tyranus. A most important one, regarding Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"The Sith-slayer?" Words could not express the contempt with which the title was uttered. "You mean to have your revenge at last, then, my Master?"

"Don't imagine you know my mind, Tyranus," Sidious snapped. "A Sith Lord is above mere revenge. Limitless power is our only goal, and to achieve this goal it is necessary that we spare Kenobi."

"Spare him?" Tyranus didn't bother hiding a sudden fury. She lifted up her chin, allowing light to slash tangentially across her face and throw her bone-white face into sharp relief. "Why? If any Jedi deserves to die, Kenobi deserves it three-fold! He is more _false_ than any of them, and if-"

Sidious cut her off. "It is not a question of deserving, Tyranus. He will be useful to us. Would you not like a Dark Acolyte? One who would accept your instruction and do your bidding?"

"I already have one of those." Her voice was like steel.

"Yes, Count Dooku is most helpful in wooing systems away from the Republic, is he not? But eventually he will outlive his usefulness, as all acolytes do. Kenobi will make an acceptable replacement, I think. When you encounter him, as you will undoubtedly do once the war begins, you must spare him."

Tyranus hesitated a long moment, but at last dipped her head in acknowledgement. "As you wish, my Lord."

"Patience, my apprentice. Eventually Kenobi will die," Sidious soothed. "And in the meantime, you may hurt him as you like whenever you meet him. Taunt him. Anger him. Do anything you can to make him lose control."

"As with Skywalker?"

"As with Skywalker."

A feral grin widened Tyranus' mouth, distorting the dark tattoos marring the edges of her pale face. "My Lord is most kind."

"Don't condescend to me, Tyranus," Sidious snapped. "It doesn't suit you. Redouble your efforts with Gunray and his colleagues. We must have the support of the Trade Federation, and soon I will need you to pay our friend Shu Mai another visit. I will expect a more encouraging report from you, and soon."

"Yes, my Master," Tyranus bowed low, and Sidious cut off the transmission decisively.

It was done, then. The pieces were beginning to fall into place at last. Soon, the Jedi would feel the first tremblings of the gale that would tear down the very foundations of all they had worked so hard to build over the last few millenia. Poor fools. Soon they would pay the price for their lack of vision.

And Kenobi would be among the first to pay.

Alone, in the darkness of his chamber, Sidious smiled.

**END OF PART 1**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note:<strong>__ Thank you, thank you, thank you to the many readers who have stuck with me to the end of this story! If you have enjoyed this story even half as much as I enjoyed writing it, I will consider my mission accomplished. And a particularly BIG thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a review! Reviews are invaluable in helping me judge the effectiveness of my storytelling and keep the story headed in the right direction. _

_I'll begin working on Part 2 soon. If you have any thoughts about what you think might happen in Part 2, based on what's happened in Part 1, I would love to hear them. I would also like to know which characters you want to see more or less of, and why. Your feedback will help shape the focus of Part 2, so please share! And again, THANK YOU ALL!_


End file.
